FOUNDED,  1854 


\  Received  


PRKSEN:rKI)  1!Y 


SKETCH 

OF  THE 

LIFE  AND  LITERABY  CAREER 

or 

AUGUSTUS    VON   KOTZEBUE ; 

WITH  THE 

JOURNAL  OF  HIS  TOUR  TO  PARIS, 

AT  THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  YEAR  I79O. 


WRITTEN  BY  HIMSELF. 


TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  GERMAN  BY 

JNNE  PLUMPTRE. 


NEW-YORK  : 

i*RlNTED  AND  PUBLISHED  BY  M.  WARD  &  CO. 
OProSXTE    THE  CITY-HALL. 

I8OI. 


A  D  VERT  IS  E  ME  NT, 

BY 

THE  TRANSLATOR. 


Short  abstracts  of  the  folloiviag  Life 
have  already  been  published  in  various  wajjSy 
and  under  various  forms ^  but  with  consider- 
able mistakes  and  misrepresentations.  One 
of  these  abstracts  is  accompanied  bij  a  note, 
stating^  that  many  things  in  the  original  are 
omitted  in  th^  translation^  because  they  would 
have  been  uninteresting  to  the  English  reader. 
Many  things  indeed  are  omitted,  since  the 
Life  is  compressed  into  scarcely  more  than  a 
tythe  of  its  original  length. 

If  any  apology  for  differing  from  this  opin- 
ion be  thought  necessary,  the  present  Trans- 
lator offers  hers  in  Kotzebue's  own  zvords : 
"  Shoidd  I  be  reproached  with  having  intrud- 
ed a  collection  of  trifling  insignijicant  circum- 
stances upon  the  world,  I  will  not  pretend  to 


ADVERTISEMENT, 


refute  the  charge ;  1  shall  only  observe ^  that 
according  to  vuj  ideas,  to  those  who  make  the 
human  heart  their  study,  nothing  can  be  un- 
interesting ivliich  contributes  towards  tracing 
the  progress  of  its  formation'' 

To  the  specidative  part  of  mankind,  the 
Translator  trusts  that  this  zvill  be  a  sufficient 
apology  for  the  publication  of  the  present  vo- 
lume, since  its  sole  object  is  to  develope  more 
fully  to  the  English  reader,  the  heart  and 
mind  of  an  Author  xvhose  works  have  obtained 
so  high  a  degree  of  reputation  in  this  country , 
To  those  zvho  may  take  up  the  volume  with  the 
expectation  of  finding  a  succession  of  extraor- 
dinary adventures,  she  has  no  apology  to 
offer,  sensible  that  they  must  experience  dis- 
appointment. It  pretends  to  notlting  more, 
than  to  exhibiting  an  interesting  picture  of 
an  ardent  and  amiable  character. 


London,  March  i,  1800, 


A 


SKETCH 

OF 

MY  LITERARY  CAREER. 


As  an  author,  I  have  received  my  abundant  fhare 
both  of  applaufe  and  abufe,  and  fince  both  have  been 
frequently  ahke  undeferved  on  my  part,  it  may  perhaps 
not  be  wholly  ufelefs  to  thofe  young  men  who  are  ambi- 
tious cf  treading  the  fame  flippery  path,  to  receive  in- 
ftruftion  from  a  veteran.  From  one  vvho  does  not  indeed 
Hand  at  the  goal  of  his  wifties — for  who  ever  reached 
that  ? — but  who  has  long  been  purfuing  the  path  which 
he  hoped  would  lead  to  it,  and  who  v/ill  now  relate, 
without  difguife  or  ornament,  where  he  has  tottered, 
or  where  fallen,  where  he  has  been  intoxicated  with 
incenfe  and  flattery,  where  been  deceived,  or  treated 
with  ridicule,  where  he  really  was  favoured  by  the  mufe, 
or  where  he  miftook  a  Bacchante  for  one  of  the  nine. 

Ye  young  and  inexperienced,  then,  ye,  who  have  as 
yet  only  dipped  the  ends  of  your  ftaves  in  the  honey  of 
A  2 


6 


LIFE   OF  KOTZEBUE. 


Parnaflus,  and  think  it  mull  be  falutary  becaufe  it  is 
fweet ;  paufe  for  a  moment,  alTemble  round  me  and 
liften.  I  have  given  the  reins  to  my  pen,  my  heart  is 
opened,  and  you  (hall  hear  equally  where  I  was  urged 
folely  by  vanity,  and  where  I  was  impreffed  with  a  juft 
fenfe  of  tlie  true  and  beautiful.  . 

Nor  will  I  afiume  any  particular  merit  for  my  fmceri- 
ty,  fince  there  are  fituations  in  hfe  in  which  it  is  no  lefs 
eafy  for  a  man  to  do  well  than  to  put  on  his  great  coat, 
and  they  are  commonly  thofe  in  which  he  can  faunter 
about  the  v/hole  day  unmolefttd  in  the  great  coat,  only 
bending  now  and  then  to  pluck  a  flovv  er,  not  to  take  up 
his  adverfary's  gauntlet.  When  fhut  out  from  the 
great  world  he  lives  in  rural  peace,  and  recei  ves  mere 
pleafure  from  the  fight  of  the  firfl  bloffoms  in  May,  or 
from  difcovering  the  firft  budding  teeth  of  his  infant 
child,  than  from  receiving  the  gracious  invitation  from  a 
patron,  "  you  nvill  dine  vjith  me  to-day. When  con- 
tent and  ferenity  of  mind  expand  the  heart  to  every  joy, 
and  ccnfequently  to  every  virtue,  and  when  he  is  fur- 
rounded  only  by  a  few  beloved  friends,  who  have  long 
learned  to  feparate  the  not  ignoble  emotions  of  the  heart 
from  the  miftakes  of  the  head  ;  thefe,  thefe  are  the 
fitu?-tions  that  induce  a  man  readily  to  acknowledge  eve- 
ry fault  he  has  committed,  and  which  infpire  him  with 
confidence  to  come  undifmayed  before  the  pubHc  ;  fince 
then  he  hears  the  voice  only  of  the  candid  judge  who  will 
not  treat  him  v/ith  ridicule,  nor  dif\ort  his  meaning,  and 
put  malicious  interpretaticr.s  upon  the  moll  innocent 
errors  he  co^ifsiTes. 


LIFE   CF  KC)TZ:r:2UE. 


7 


"  And  where,'*  fays  RoufTeaa,  fhall  we  find  the 
man  of  fenfe  v>^ho  has  never  faid  a  foolifh  thing  ? — 
**  Where  the  honeft  man  who  has  never  done  any  thing 
**  reprehenfible  ? — ere  an  exad  regifter  to  be  kept  of 
"  every  fault  committed  by  even  the  moft  perfect  am.ong 

mortals,  and  were  every  other  part  of  his  chara6ler  to 
"  be  carefully  fupprelTed,  what  opinion  v/ould  the  world 
"  have  reafon  to  form  of  fuch  a  man 

Go  on,  then,  ye  mahcious  critics,  ye  manglers  of 
fame  by  profession,  what  will  your  barking  concern  the 
happy  reclufe,  provided  he  have  a  wife  and  a  few  friends 
who  know  and  love  him  ?  Miferable  hirelings  !  bark  till 
you  be  tired,  it  is  not  in  your  power  to  drive  from  his 
bofom  that  wife  and  tliofe  friends. 

Were- 1,  however,  to  alTert  that  I  write  this  flcetch 
folely  with  the  view  of  ferving  young  authors,  I  fhould 
advance  as  grcfs  a  falfchood  as  a  bookfeller  who  Hiould 
profefs  that  in  felhng  his  books  at  a  low  rate,  he  has  no 
other  objeft  but  to  render  the  purchafe  eafy  to  all  lovers 
of  knov/ledge.  No,  no,  my  friends  !  he  only  fixes  this 
under-pi-ice  upon  a  few  old  fhopkeepers,  which  having 
been  long  on  his  hands  he  is  glad  to  fell  at  any  rate  ;  and 
in  the  fame  manner  this  flcetch  has  been  lying  by  in  my 
brain  for  five  years  already,  and  I  muft  now  fend  it  out 
into  the  world  to  make  way  for  the  reception  of  other 
things. 

Indeed,  to  own  the  truth,  I  have  one  obje6l  in  view 
in  writing  thefe  pages,  wholly  extrinfic  of  all  other  con- 
federations, which  is,  the  pleafure  I  fhall  derive  from  the 


8 


LIFE   OF  KOTZEKUE. 


purfuit.  I  Confider  authorftiip  as  a  luxury,  and  never 
in  my  life  did  I  write  but  one  book  and  one  pamphlet 
that  I  felt  to  be  a  tafl<.  This  was  owing-  to  their  beino; 
undertaken  entirely  to  pleafe  other  people  ;  confequent- 
ly  they  were  beyond  comparifon  the  worft  compofitions 
that  ever  came  from  my  pen.  But  all  my  dramas,  and 
whatever  elfe  among  my  numerous  effufions  have  excelled 
the  moft  in  beauty  and  feeling,  have  been  done  for  my 
own  amufement  ;  and  the  gratification  I  have  received 
from  the  hours  fo  fpent,  has  repaid  my  toils  much  more 
richly  than  the  profits  refulting  from  them,  or  even  the 
applaufe  they  have  procured  me  from  the  public. 

Let  me,  then,  amid  the  wanderings  of  my  fancy,  for- 
get the  fnow  that  now  lies  around  my  window,  fo  fl^all 
I  care  little  how  it  fares  with  the  windows  of  my  neigh- 
bors. Yet  let  me  deprecate  the  idea  of  any  one  reading 
my  book  with  the  imprefiion  of  its  being  written  at  the 
fetting  in  of  the  firft  froft,  a  feafon  fo  uncongenial  to 
authorfhip.  Not  that  I  am  entering  at  this  moment  up- 
on a  hazardous  chafe  after  applaufe — from  that  heaven 
defend  me  !  To  the  finging-bird  that  pecks  at  my  win- 
dow I  v/ould  open  it  with  pleafure,  and  who  would  re- 
fufe  him  admittance  ?  But  God  forbid  that  I  fhould  at- 
tempt to  catch  him  in  a  fnare  ! 

Come  forth  then,  ye  enchanting  images  of  youth, 
though  the  piftures  ye  exhibit  fcarcely  feem  to  bear 
any  refcmblance  to  my  prefent  felf !  Come  forth  !  de- 
lude my  fancy,  ye  beloved  fhadows  ! — afcend,  ye  fweet 
hours  of  infancy,  as  a  thin  vapour  from  the  ocean  of  the 


LIFE   OF  KOTZEBUE. 


9 


paft,  and  float  once  more  before  my  eyes  ! — I  Hand  up- 
on the  bnnk  of  the  ftream  of  time,  and  eagerly  watch  the 
current  as  it  bears  my  flower  along  upon  its  furface. 
Even  now  I  behold  it  glittering  upon  the  back  of  a 
wave,  for  the  lail  time  ere  it  be  plunged  into  the  depth 
below,  and  loft  forever  to  my  fight. 

Let  me  catch  this  laft  glitter  ! — See  there  that  boy 
who  hangs  with  fixed  eyes  upon  his  mother's  lips,  while 
on  a  winter's  evening  flie  reads  in  fome  good  book  to  him 
and  his  fifter ! — See  him  again  making  a  table  of  his 
ftool,  and  a  feat  of  the  footftep,  as  he  eagerly  feafts  upon 
a  beloved  romance,  while  his  ball  and  hobby-horfe  lie  ne- 
glefted  in  a  corner  ! — Ah,  that  boy  is  a  child  no  longer ! 

My  good  mother,  thanks  be  to  heaven,  flie  ftill  lives 
to  witnefs  the  elFufions  of  my  gratitude! — My  good  mo- 
ther, early  left  a  widow,  renounced  many  of  the  charms 
and  enjoyments  of  life,  to  devote  herfelf  to  the  education 
of  her  children  and  the  formation  of  their  infant  minds. 
She  pcfTelTed  a  refined  tafte,  with  correal  feelings  and  a 
mind  well  cultivated  by  reading,  to  which  ftie  added  a 
rich  treafure  of  maternal  tendernefs.  With  qualities  like 
thefe  fhe  could  fcarcely  find  her  toils  wholly  unreward- 
ed. 

She  engaged  tutors  for  my  inftru^lion,  young  divines, 
who,  while  anxioufly  waiting,  till  in  quahty  of  their 
godly  vocation,  they  fhould  be  called  to  the  care  of  a 
flock,  made  me  feel  mofl;  heavily  the  weight  of  their 
fliepherds'  crooks.  They  indeed  fpared  no  pains,  with- 
in the  fphere  of  corredlion,  to  make  a  hopeful  flieep  of 
me.    One  of  them  was  a  phyfiognomift,  another  had  9. 


10 


LIFE  CP  KOTZEBUE. 


heart  deeply  transfixed  with  the  arrows  of  love.  The 
former  was  eternally  criticifing  the  formation  of  my 
nofe,  the  latter  employed  me  in  conveying  billets  doux 
to  his  miftrefs.  But  the  mifchief  done  by  them  was  al- 
ways repaired  by  my  mother.  One  evening  fpent  with 
her,  one  hour's  private  reading  in  her  room,  was  of 
more  ufe  to  me  than  all  the  time  employed  in  drudging 
at  Langen's  Colloquies,  or  in  poring  over  Luther*s  long 
and  fhort  Catechifms.  My  tutors  taught  the  parrot  to 
prate,  my  mother  taught  the  child  to  feel.  From  her 
I  imbibed  a  tafte  for  reading  almoft  at  the  breaft,  and 
even  when  I  was  not  more  than  four  or  five  years  old, 
books  had  more  charms  for  me  than  a  rocking-horfe. 

The  firll  v/ork  from  which  I  recolle6l  to  have  received 
any  ftrong  impreffion  was  a  colleftion  of  Tales  from  va- 
rious languages,  called  Evening  Hours,  at  that  time  a 
very  popular  book  for  children.  It  confifted  of  feverrJ 
volumes,  which,  feated  in  the  manner  I  have  before  de- 
fcribed,  I  ufed  to  read  over  and  over  again.  In  the 
title-page  was  the  figure  of  a  fleeping  dog,  with  the 
motto,  non  omnibus  dormio.  What  this  vignette  was  in- 
tended to  reprefent,  I  do  not  know  ;  but  this  I  know, 
that  even  to  the  prefent  moment,  I  never  pafs  a  dog 
afleep,  without  thinking  of  the  Evening  Hours. 

My  favorite  tale  among  this  coUetlion,  and  which 
called  forth  the  firll  tears  of  fenfibility  I  ever  flied,  was 
the  ftory  of  Romeo  and  Juliet,  from  which  Weiffe  took 
the  materials  for  his  tragedy.  It  affefted  me  fo  deeply, 
that  I  think  the  preference  I  have  ever  fince  retained  for 
pathetic  tales,  may  perhaps  be  traced  to  this  fourcc, 


LIFE   OF  KOTZEBUE. 


11 


fince  it  is  certain  that  thofe  things  which  make  a  ftrong 
impreffion  upon  the  mind  in  infancy,  have  a  confiderable 
influence  in  forming  the  future  tafle. 

The  next  work  that  eagerly  attracted  my  attention 
was  Don  Quixotte,  and  though  that  admirable  hiftory 
has  lately  been  much  better  tranflated  by  Bertuch,  yet 
I  will  freely  own  that  I  never  received  half  the  pleafure 
from  this  improved  verfion,  as  from  what  I  read  in  my 
infancy.  A  child  brings  to  his  fliudies  as  well  as  to  his 
play,  a  ftronger  fenfibility,  with  a  greater  aptitude  to 
receive  powerful  impreffions,  and  therefore  finds  in  both, 
charms  which  are,  in  faft,  rather  to  be  afcribed  to  the 
quicknefs  of  his  own  feelings,  than  to  the  real  attradlion 
of  the  things  themfelves,  as  a  leaf  though  half  vnthered, 
Hill  appears  beautiful  when  the  morning  fun  (bines  up- 
on it. 

It  is  therefore  that  the  youth,  and  even  the  man,  will 
fometimes  feel  an  ardent  wifli  to  read  again  in  his  ma- 
turer  years,  a  book  with  which  he  had  been  tranf- 
ported  in  his  infancy.  He  endeavors  to  procure  it ;  he 
fucceeds  at  laft,  and  then  wonders  that  he  no  longer 
finds  it  entertaining.  My  taste  "  he  fays,  is  refin- 
Ah  no  !  but  thou  haft  not  perufed  it  with  the 
like  fenfations  as  formerly.  A  gentle  touch  fufficed  at 
that  time  to  make  every  nerve  tremble,  but  now,  to  be 
affedled  they  muft  be  fliaken.  Indeed,  were  it  true  that 
this  difference  is  folely  the  effecSl  of  a  more  refined  tafte, 
ftill  it  were  but  a  melancholy  truth,  fince  it  only  fhews 
how  much  the  circle  of  our  mental  enjoyments  muft  be 
every  moment  contrading.    We  cannot  endure  to  rea4 


12 


LIFE   OF  KOTZEBUE, 


any  but  works  of  decided  fuperiority,  we  value  ourfelves 
upon  this  faftidioufnefs,  and  make  it  our  pride  that  fuch 
only  can  afford  us  entertainment ;  yet  \vc  efteem  the 
contented  man  who  eats  his  homely  broth  with  the  fame 
rehfii  that  Frederick  the  Second  ate  his  Polenta.  Is 
content,  then,  only  a  corporeal  virtue  ^ 

But  hold,  thou  renowned  Don  Quixotte,  thou  art 
leading  me  too  far  ! — Accept  my  thanks  for  the  many 
hours  of  real  happinefs  thou  haft  procured  me,  and  ftiare 
them  with  Sancho  Panca.  Ye  are  excellent  companions, 
and  moft  gladly  did  I  receive  you  as  inmates,  till  the 
wonderful  adventurer,  Robinfon  Crufoe,  thruft  you 
out.  With  irrefiftible  force  did  he,  as  a  magnet,  attradl 
me  towards  him,  as  he  attraft^  every  other  boy.  To 
him  I  clung,  as  to  the  choiceft  treafure  of  my  foul,  and 
with  him  under  my  arm  have  frequently  flown  along  the 
Red-way,  as  it  was  called,  to  the  threfhold  of  the  ftable, 
there,  undifturbed  by  the  noife  of  my  play-fellows,  to  ac- 
company him  in  his  goat-huntings.  The  hour  for  the 
evening  beaver  ftruck,  but  I  heard  it  not ;  the  fun  fet,  yet 
I  read  on  till  my  eyes  were  weary  with  endeavoring  in 
vain  to  read  longer.  Oh,  how  anxioufly  did  I  then  wifii 
that  fortune  might  one  day  throw  me  on  a  defart  ifland  ! 
How  delicious  did  I  find,  in  idea,  the  bread  baked  in 
the  earth  after  Robinfon's  fafhion,  and  the  goat's  flefh 
drelTed  in  pots  of  my  own  making  ! 

I  immediately  began  to  fearch  after  all  the  adventur- 
ous Robinfons,  which  the  defire  of  imitation  had  produ- 
ced in  my  own  country,  but  no  one  was  to  be  found  that 
in  ftrength,  nature  and  intereft,  approached  the  origi- 


LIFK   OF    KO ; ZEBUE 


13 


nal.  The  Iflan.d  of  Felfeiiburg  indeed  charmed  me  in.  no 
flight  degree  5  and  tlic  appearance  of  the  fpirit,  rifmg 
out  of  the  water  in  the  form  of  a  cloud,  gave  me  tole- 
rable fenfations  of  terror.  Robert  Pierrot  alfo  had  no 
inconfiderable  fhare  of  my  favor,  and  particularly  in  that 
part  where  he  receives  canonization  on  coming  out  of 
the  cave  with  the  skulls.  But  ftill  thefe  were  nothing 
to  my  beloved  Robinfon  :  He  remained  the  objeft  of  my 
deareft  admiration,  while  I  entertained  a  very  fmcere 
afFe<5lion  for  his  Friday,  and  was  beguiled  of  many  a  tear 
by  the  artlefs  tranfports  he  evinced  at  meeting  again 
with  his  father. 

An  ifland,  and  particularly  a  defart  ifland,  were  at 
that  time  like  words  of  magic  to  my  foul,  to  which  were 
annexed  a  long  train  of  the  moft  enchanting  images. — 
Sometimes  I  thought  within  myfelf,  Why  do  I  learn  to 
decline,  to  conjugate,  to  expound  ? — Were  it  not  better 
to  be  inftru6led  in  fuch  mechanical  trades  as  I  might 
hereafter  find  ufeful  in  my  folitude  ?  Since,  if  fate 
would  grant  my  moft  ardent  wifh,  in  procefs  of  time  I 
ihould  make  a  voyage  in  a  leaky  fliip,  and  be  wrecked 
on  an  uninhabited  coaft,  where  I  alone  of  all  the  crew 
being  faved,  fiiould  have  nothing  with  which  to  build 
myfelf  a  houfe  but  the  fhattered  remains  of  the  vefTel. 

Who  would  have  thought  of  this  wifh  being  eagerly 
revived,  after  a  lapfe  of  five-and-twenty  years  ? — I  was 
born  with  a  heart  fufceptible  of  an  ardent  relifh  for  foci- 
ety,  coniequently  neceffity  alone  could  drive  me  into 
folitude  ;  yet  I  would  rather  hve  for  ever  removed  from 
the  malice  and  vices  of  mankind,  than  to  be  obliged  daily 
B 


14 


LIFE   OF  KOTZEBUE. 


to  witnefs  them,  and  deteft  my  fpecies.  The  word  ill- 
and  ftill  eleftrifies  my  foul  as  formerly,  only  that  I  no 
longer  wifh  it  to  be  uninhabited  ;  nor  at  the  magic  found 
do  I  now  think  of  Robinfon  Crufoe,  but  of  thee,  my 
worthy  Ungern.  The  ifland  thou  inhabiteft,  my  prov- 
ed, my  faithful  friend,  fhall  be  my  laft  afylum  ;  and  if 
fate  (hall  deftroy  my  happinefs  in  fociety  for  ever,  thou 
fhalt  grant  me  a  little  fpot  where  I  may  drop  a  tear  un- 
molefted  over  the  miferable  wreck. 

If  at  any  time  my  imagination  was  over-heated  by 
the  Pearl  Iflands,  or  the  Ifland  of  Fclfenberg,  by  the 
floating  or  flying  Ifland,  my  mother  always  contrived 
to  fele6t  fomething  for  our  evening  reading,  which  might 
moderate  this  ardor,  and  make  a  gentler  imprefilon  upon 
my  too  fufceptible  fancy.  I  v/as  fond  of  ^fop's  Fa- 
bles, and  foon  alfo  became  familiarly  acquainted  with 
Gellert's  fables  and  fongs,  many  of  which  I  learned  by 
heart.  Haller  and  Bodmer  were  above  me  ;  but-  with 
Gleim,  Uz,  and  Hagedorn,  I  was  delighted,  becaufe  I 
could  underftand  them  perfedly,  and  very  early  in  Hfe 
they  became  objefts  of  my  imitation.  Well  do  I  re- 
member m^y  firll  attempt  at  writing  poetry.  I  was 
fcarcely  lix  years  old,  and  ufed  to  keep  m.y  manufcript 
behind  the  looking-glafs,  with  the  rod.  The  poem  was 
to  be  a  defcription  of  rural  fcenery,  and  the  images  for 
it  were  ranfackcd  from  all  the  poets  with  which  I  was 
then  acquainted.  I  well  remember  the  two  following 
lines,  fince  they  particularly  delighted  mc  becaufe  they 
Clipped  fo  prettily  : — 


LIFE  Of  KOTZEBUE. 


15 


Es  finget  die  fteigende  Lerche, 
Es  hupfen  die  Schiifgen  am  Beige. 

The  lark,  afcending,  fings. 

The  flieep  Ikip  upon  the  mountains. 

1  was  not  at  all  aware,  however,  that  they  were  dac- 
tyls ;  and  indeed  they  were  the  only  lines  of  that  mea- 
fure  in  the  whole  poem.  For  many  days  together  did  I 
puzzle  my  brains  to  make  all  the  other  lines  dance  with 
equal  agility,  but  in  vain.  The  remainder  of  the  poem 
was  compoled  of  heavy  fpondees,  which  I  could  not 
alter  ;  neither  could  I  comprehend  how  it  was  pofiible 
to  make  verfes  either  creep  on  at  a  foot's  pace,  or  gal- 
lop at  pleafure. 

Soon  after  1  ventured  on  a  firft  elfay  at  dramatic 
writing.  The  fable  of  the  Milk-maid  and  the  two  Hunts- 
men had  accidentally  fallen  into  my  hands  :  the  favorite 
little  opera  on  that  ftory  was  not  then  in  exiftence,  or  at 
leaft  was  unknown  to  me.  On  this  fubjecl  I  wrote  a 
comedy,  which  filled  a  whole  o6lavo  page.  I  was  in- 
deed fenfible,  that  to  bear  any  ref:;Tr:!il-!':<?e  a  real 
comedy,  it  ought  to  have  been  immeaiuraLxy  \n.  :  j 
but  where  was  I  to  learn  the  art  of  fpinning  my  lL;\;ad 
to  a  proper  length  f 

My  paffion  for  poetry  foon  produced  its  ufual  effed 
of  rendering  my  infant  heart  extremely  fufceptible  of 
tender  impreffions.  My  affedions  were  now  ardently  fixed 
upon  a  very  amiable  young  woman,  even  then  grown  up, 
and  who  afterwards  became  my  aunt.  On  my  feventh 
birth-day,  the  30th  of  May,  1768,  I  wrote  a  very  pas- 


10 


LIFE   OF  KOTZEBUE, 


fionatc  letter  addrefled  to  this  lady,  upon  the  blank  leaf 
of  a  drawing-book.  I  made  her  many  tender  reproaches 
for  her  cruehy  in  preferring  the  uncle  to  the  nephew, 
vow-ed  an  unalterable  fidehty  to  her,  and  concluded 
with  requeuing  permifiion,  as  the  greateft  of  all  favours, 
to  kifo  her  little  delicate  white  hand. 

This  circuinflance  I  own  to  be  in  ilfelf  extremely  ia- 
ilrnificant :  I  only  mention  it  on  account  of  the  confe- 
quences.    My  mother  difcovering  the  letter,  and  find- 
ing the  expreflions  and  turn  of  fentiment  far  above  my 
years,  was  extremely  delighted,  nor  could  her  maternal 
vanity  forbear  reading  it  in  my  prefence  to  fome  vifitors 
who  were  at  the  houfe.    They  very  naturally,  though 
to  my  utter  confufion,  laughed  at  it  moft  heartily,  and 
this  gave  me  the  firll  really,  and  deeply  tormenting  fen- 
fation  that  I  ever  remember  to  have  experienced.  Nor 
were  thefe  feelings  tranlitory.    A  lafting  impreffion  was 
made  upon  my  foul  ;  and  every  time  the  letter  was  read 
again — for  my  mother's  vanity  {topped  not  at  a  fingle 
reading — this  torment  was  renewed  v/ith  ever  increafmg 
bitternefs.    I  ufed  to  retire  to  an  out-houfe,  where  v/e 
kept  wood,  and  there  fhed  the  moft  poignant  tears  of 
fhame  and  difappointed  ambition,  till  at  length  I  fecretly 
got  the  detefted  drawing-book  out  of  a  httle  green  cor- 
ner cupboard  in  which  it  was  kept,  and  threw  it  into  the 
fire.    From  this  period  I  loft  for  a  long  time  all  confi- 
dence in  my  mother,  with  regard  to  concerns  of  the 
heart ;  and  I  mention  the  circumftance  as  a  warning  to 
parents  and  others  engaged  in  education,  to  be  extremely 
cautious  how  they  condud  themfelves  in  this  refpeft  to- 


LIFE   OF   KOTZEBUE.  17 

wards  cliildren  of  acute  feelings.  Nothing  can  be  more 
hazardous  than  to  expofe  them,  even  though  only  in 
fport,  to  the  mortification  of  being  put  to  the  blufh. 

Thofe  who  make  the  human  heart  their  ftudy ,  cannot 
but  have  obferved  how  often  a  propeiriity  to  rehgious  en- 
thufiafm  is  the  companion  of  fuch  an  early  fufceptibility 
to  love.  It  was  not  therefore  furprizing,  with  a  heart 
formed  like  mine,  that  excefs  of  piety  fhould  in  infancy 
be  one  of  its  prominent  features.  In  truth,  fo  ftrong 
wa6  thivS  paflion  within  me,  at  the  time  of  which  I  fpeak, 
that  had  it  continued  as  I  advanced  in  years,  my  mother 
mud  long  ago  have  experienced  the  fame  happinefs  that 
fell  to  the  lot  of  the  mother  of  St.  Borromeo. 

No  fooner  had  I  left  my  bed  in  the  morning,  than 
haftening  down  into  the  garden,  I  locked  myfelf  into  a 
place  which  dehcacy  forbids  me  to  mention,  that  I  might 
be  perfectly  retired  and  undifturbed  in  my  devotions. 
There  kneeling  down,  I  poured  out  the  ejBTufions  of  my 
heart  to  my  Creator,  not  in  any  regular  form,  but  in 
fuch  ejaculations  as  occurred  at  the  moment,  which 
iffued  from  the  very  bottom  of  my  foul,  and  were  gene- 
rally accompanied  with  tears  of  awe  and  contrition. 
Well  do  I  remember  how  much  trouble  it  occafioned 
me,  to  make  what  I  thought  fufficient  variations  in  my 
pious  orifons,  as  I  was  apprehenfive  left  God  fliould  be 
offended  if  there  was  too  much  fimilarity  in  them,  and 
think  that  I  put  him  off  with  the  fame  things  every  da  v. 
It  was  always  my  opinion,  that  a  fet  form  of  prayer 
from  a  book  could  not  be  acceptable  to  the  Deity,  be- 
B  z 


18  LIFE   OF  KOTZEI^rK, 


caufe  he  muft  know  already  every  thing  that  the  book 
contained ;  and  for  this  reafon  I  had  an  infupportable 
averfion  to  Benjamin  Schmolken's  morning  and  evening 
devotions,  in  which  I  ufed  to  read  every  day  to  my 
mother.  With  true  ecclefiaftical  felf-fufficiency,  there- 
fore, did  I  refle£l  upon  my  hours  of  private  prayer,  in 
which,  according  to  my  ideas,  the  Almighty  learned 
fomething  new. 

Shall  I  confefs  by  what  means  it  happened,  that  this 
early  propenfity  to  piety  was  extinguiilied  in  my  mind  ? 
It  may  perhaps  hardly  appear  credible,  but  it  was  by 
attendance  at  church.  Twice  every  Sunday  did  the 
tutors  at  Weimar  regularly  carry  their  pupils  thither, 
where  they  were  not  allowed  to  fpeak,  to  move  a  limb, 
or  even  to  ogle  with  the  painted  angels  upon  the  ceiling. 
The  ftrideft  filence  and  attention  to  what  was  going 
forwards  was  acquired  ;  nay,  more,  we  were  expected  , 
to  write  down,  or  retain  in  our  memories  at  leafl,  the 
text  and  heads  of  the  difcourfe,  v/liich,  in  truth,  was  ^ 
ufually  a  moft  vapid  compofition.  In  Vv-inter,  this  taflc 
was  performed  with  perifhing  fingers*  ends  ;  and  in  fuin- 
mer,  when  the  weather  was  bright  and  ferene,  with  an 
anxious  longing  to  be  out  in  the  open  air. 

How  many  hours  of  wearinefs  and  langour  havtt  I 
endured  in  the  Caftle  Church  at  Weimar,  till  at  length 
I  fell  upon  an  expedient  for  rendering  them  fomewhat 
iefs  irkfome  !  No  fooner  had  I  caught  fi-om  the  preach- 
er as  much  as  was  necelTary  to  relate  at  ray  return  home,, 
than  I  ftole  into  a  retired  corner  of  the  feat,  v/ith  th-- 


LIFE   CP  KGlZEhVE. 


19 


Weimar  hymn-book,  and  there  fludied  a  hiftory  of  the 
fiege  of  Jerufalem  annexed  to  it  by  way  of  appendix. 
In  this  I  found  a  luxuriant  repaft  for  my  imagination. 
The  cry  of  the  lunatic,  in  particular,  who  uttered  the 
dreadful  founds  of  Woe  !  Woe  !  from  the  walls  of  Je- 
rufalem, feemed  every  Sunday  as  I  read,  to  echo  in  my 
ears,  and  made  my  heart  thrill  with  horror.  It  will  eafily 
be  conceived,  that  lince  this  was  the  only  book  to  be  had 
at  church,  I  read  the  hiftory  over  fo  often,  that  at  laft  I 
could  nearly  repeat  it  by  heart. 

Ye  parents  and  tutors  1  if  ye  feek  to  educate  your 
children  to  real  piety  and  good  mora!s,  be  careful  how 
you  weary  their  young  minds  with  going  to  church.  I 
could  cite  many  fearful  examples  of  the  ill  effefts  pro- 
duced in  children  by  the  laffitude  and  want  of  employ- 
ment they  experience  there.  The  fiege  of  Jerufalem  is 
not  always  at  hand  to  relieve  their  langour,  and  the  im- 
agination being  left  wholly  to  its  own  devices,  fcheme? 
have  thus  been  formed  which  have  occaficned  the  founds 
of  Woe  !  Woe  !  to  be  uttered  by  other  mouths  than 
the  man  above  alluded  to. 

For  myfelf,  my  exemplary  piety  was  not  oaly  extin- 
guifned,  but  I  foon  became  an  abfolute  infidel.  I  might 
be  about  nine  or  ten  years  old,  when  one  day  I  accident- 
ally aficed  m.y  tutor  whether  God  could  create  another 
being  greater  and  more  powerful  than  himfelf  ?  To 
this  enquiry,  made  in  the  fimplicity  of  my  heart,  I  re- 
ceived a  high-toned  and  peremptory  negative,  whence  I 
immediately  drew  the  conclufion  that  God  could  not  be 


20 


LIFE  OF  KOTZEEUE. 


omnipotent.  This,  indeed,  the  more  I  revolved  it  in 
my  mind,  feemed  to  me  fo  much  the  more  clear  and 
incontrovertible,  that  I  could  by  no  means  comprehend 
how  the  world  had  remained  for  fo  many  centuries  blind 
to  fo  palpable  a  truth,  and  I  valued  myfelf  not  a  little 
upon  my  own  acutenefs  in  ha\'ing  now  made  the  diico- 
very.  Many  weeks  did  I  cherilh  this  felf-important 
feeling,  and  even  endeavored  to  make  profclytes  among 
my  young  companions,  to  my  ingenious  hypothefis. 
But  it  carried  not  the  fame  force  of  convi6llon  to  their 
minds  as  to  mine.  Some  laughed  at  me  ;  ethers  would 
not  liften  to  my  arguments  ;  till  at  length  I  grew  weary 
of  preaching  to  no  eifed.  The  flame  that  burned  at 
firft  with  fo  m.uch  ardor,  wanting  nourifliment  from  va- 
nity, was  extinguifhed  by  degrees,  and  after  a  while  no- 
thing remained  of  the  meteor  that  had  fo  tranfported 
my  fenfes  but  the  pleafmg  impreflion  infpired  by  the  idea 
of  having  firft  learned  to  think  for  myfelf. 

About  that  time,  a  lovely  girl,  between  fifteen  and 
fixteen  years  of  age,  the  only  child  of  two  difconfolate 
parents,  died  at  Weimar  of  the  fmall-pox.  She  was 
beloved,  though  in  filence,  Unce  he  never  made  known 
his  pafPion  even  to  its  object,  by  a  boy  who  was  then  ad- 
vancing towards  the  age  of  manhood.  He  was  fome 
years  older  than  myfelf ;  but  as  we  lived  in  the  same 
houfe,  and  as  I  always  lent  a  willing  ear  to  his  enamour- 
ed tranfports,  I  became,  notwithftanding  the  difference 
of  our  ages,  his  confidant,  and  conftant  companion. 
Sometimes  I  accompanied  him  in  an  evening  under  the. 


LIFE   CF  XOTZEBUE. 


21 


window  of  his  fuffering  miftrefs's  apartment,  v/here  we 
have  flood  patiently  waiting  for  hours  together  in  the 
rain  or  fnow,  watching  in  the  hope  of  gaining  fome  in- 
telligence of  her,  though  perhaps  at  laft  we  could  not 
perceive  any  thing  but  indiftinft  fliadows,  upon  which 
to  form  conjedures,  that  were  always  reciprocally  com- 
liiunicated. 

Once — fo  frefli  is  the  recolle£lion  in  my  memory  that 
rt  fecms  as  though  the  event  had  happened  but  yefter- 
day — ^we  could  diftinguifii  pretty  clearly  upon  the  cur- 
tain, the  fhadow  of  a  perfon  with  a  fpoon  in  her  hand, 
apparently  going  to  give  fome  medicine  to  the  unhappy 
fufferer.  My  companion  began  to  weep  bitterly,  tho' 
in  the  public  ftreet ;  and  fo  deeply  was  I  affefted  by  his 
fituation,  that  my  tears  flowed  in  fcarcely  lefs  abund- 
ance. It  was  natural  enough  'that  fuch  a  fcene  fhould 
make  an  impreffion  upon  me,  too  ftrong  to  be  effaced 
by  any  lapfe  of  time.  The  night  was  dark  and  difmal, 
the  v/eather  ftormy.  Thefe  circumftances,  together 
with  the  glimmer  of  the  lamp  from  the  fick  room,  the 
fhadow  of  the  perfon  with  the  fpoon  faintly  feen  upon 
the  curtain,  the  fobs  and  agony  of  the  afflifted  youth, 
the  melancholy  refleftion  that  a  lovely  girl,  whom  I  had 
otfen  feen  ficipping  and  dancing  about  in  all  the  gaiety 
of  health  and  fpirit3,  was  perhaps  at  that  moment  dying, 
formed  a  combination  of  im.ages  capable  of  fetting  a  lefs 
ardent  imagination  than  mine  into  a  tempeft  of  emotions. 
The  effed  upon  me  was  fo  powerful,  that  when  the  poor 
girl  actually  died,  I  felt  the  moil  poignant  anguidi  of 


22 


LIFE   OF  KOT2EBUE. 


heart,  exclufive  of  all  confiderations  of  fympathy  for  her 
lover. 

I,  however,  foon  found  a  fource  of  confolation  not 
granted  to  him.  I  wrote  an  elegy  upon  her  death ;  and 
as  it  was  not  compofed  with  any  attention  to  poetical 
rules,  but  was  didlated  folely  by  feeling,  I  fucceeded 
far  better  in  this  attempt  than  in  any  thing  I  had  yet 
produced.  It  was  ferioufly  fuggeiled  by  fome  friends, 
that  the  poem  ought  to  be  printed.  The  bare  idea  of 
this  raifed  fuch  exquifite  tranfports  in  my  bofom,  that, 
nctwithftanding  my  real  afFeftion  for  the  youth,  and 
forrow  for  the  maiden,  I  believe,  if  a  prayer  of  mine 
would  have  recalled  her  to  life,  I  could  not  have  pre- 
vailed on  myfelf  to  offer  it  up  at  the  expenfe  of  this 
offspring  of  my  brain.  Thus  did  the  vanity  of  author- 
fhip  firfl  exercife  its  all-powerful  tyranny  over  me.  The 
elegy  was  never  printed,  for  what  reafon  I  do  not  recoi- 
led, but  the  applaufe  I  received  from  the  compofition 
would  entirely  have  effaced  my  forrow,  even  though  the 
unfortunate  girl  had  been  my  own  beloved. 

I  come  now  to  that  period  of  my  life  v/hen,  from  the 
circumflances  into  which  I  was  accidentally  thrown,  my 
future  deiliny  v/as  irrevocably  decided,  and  I  was  doomed 
to  experience  all  the  pains  and  pleafures  that  inevitably 
attend  the  dramatic  writer.  The  deceafed  player,  Ab- 
bott came  with  his  ilroiling  company  to  Weimar,  and 
fitted  up  the  riding-lioufe  as  a  theatre.  Never  within 
my  memory  had  Weimar  been  vifited  by  any  players, 
and  my  curiofity  was  excited  beyond  all  bounds.  It 


LIFE   OF  KOTZEBUE. 


23 


will  eafily  be  imagined,  then,  what  tranfports  I  felt 
when  Mufseus,  the  admirable  Mufseus,  who  had  always 
honored  me  with  his  particular  notice,  and  who  at  that 
time  was  Governor  of  the  Pages,  came  one  evening  and 
requefted  my  mother  to  let  me  accompany  him  to  the 
play.  V 

With  a  facred  awe  did  I  enter  the  theatre,  an  awe 
the  Caftle  Church  was  never  capable  of  infpiring.  The 
number  of  lights,  the  crowd  assembled,  the  guards, 
the  myfterions  curtain,  altogether  raifed  my  expe<ftation 
to  an  unexampled  pitch.  The  play  was  Klopftock's 
Death  of  Adam.  Mufseus  let  me  ftand  upon  the  bench 
before  him,  that  I  might  fee  over  the  heads  of  the  other 
fpeftators.  The  curtain  drew  up  :  I  was  all  eyes,  all  ears. 
Not  a  word,  a  look,  or  an  attitude,  efcaped  me.  I  was 
impatient  if  any  one  of  the  audience  coughed  or  blew 
his  nofe.  I  abfolutely  ftamped  with  my  foot  upon  the 
bench  if  a  troublefome  neighbour  began  to  talk  to  Mu- 
faius,  who  was  too  complaifant  not  to  anfvver  him.  No  ! 
alive  as  my  heart  has  always  been  to  powerful  impref- 
fionS;  never  did  I  experience  any  thing  equal  to  the  pre- 
fent. 

I  came  home  almoft  ftunned  with  delight.  I  was 
aflced,  how  I  hked  the  play  ?  Ah,  my  God  !  liked  ! 
— What  a  feeble  v/ord  to  defcribe  my  feelings  !  I  want- 
ed fom.e  new  mode  of  exp^effion  coined  on  purpofe  to 
reprefent  them  ;  none  of  the  old  ones  were  fiiiliciently 
forcible.  Fain  woiud  I  have  painted  in  the  mofl  vivid 
jCoIour3  all  I  had  feen,  in  ^vjpes  to  make  others  feel  it  as 


2.i 


LIFE   OF  KOTZKBUE. 


I  did,  but  I  was  only  convinced  of  the  impotence  of 
words  to  accomplifli  my  aim.  I  neither  knew  where  to 
begin  nor  to  end,  I  would  have  aiked  no  greater  blef- 
fmg  of  fate,  than  to  grant  that  I  might  be  prefent  every 
night  at  fuch  a  performance.  Robinfon  Crufoe's  Ifland 
was  no  longer  an  objeft  of  defire  to  me,  for  on  that 
defert  fpot  there  could  be  no  theatre.  It  was  totally  in- 
comprehenfible  to  my  mind  how  people  could  talk  of  the 
play  with  fo  much  compofure,  and  go  on  calmly  and 
quietly  with  their  avocations  as  ufual.  According  to 
my  ideas,  they  ought  all  to  have  run  about  the  ftreets, 
like  the  citizens  of  Abdera,  crying,  "  0  thou  ruler  over 
gods  and  men!  Mighty,  mighty  Abbott  ^  Did  any 
one  afli  m.y  mother  whether  fhe  intended  to  go  that 
evening  to  the  theatre,  and  fhe  anfwered  in  the  negative, 
that  fhe  was  engaged  to  take  a  walk,  or  fomething  of 
the  like  kind,  "My  God  I  thought  within  myfelf, 
"  how  is  it  poflible  that  thofe  who  can  do  as  tliey  pleafe, 
"  fhould  prefer  a  walk  to  the  play 

InexprelTibJe,  therefore,  were  my  tranfports,  wlien,  not 
long  after,  a  regular  theatre  was  inftituted  at  Weimar, 
under  the  patronage  of  the  Dutchefs  Amelia,  that  favor- 
ite of  the  Mufes.  The  company  was  undoubtedly  one 
of  the  belt  at  that  time  in  Germany,  fmce  the  family  of 
Seiler,  Brandes,  Bock,  and  the  immortal  Eckhof,  were 
the  principal  performers. 

Eckhof  !  tliou  great  and  good  man,  I  biefs  thy  afnes  i 
Thou  didil  aflift  to  form  my  heart  and  underftanding,  to 
awaken  many  a  noble  feeling  in  my  bofom,  and  by  thy 
woijiderful  performances,  to  enrich  my  reafon  and  fancy 


LIFE  OF  KOTZEBUE. 


25 


with  ideas  and  conceptions  that  could  only  have  been 
infpired  through  fuch  a  medium.  Often  when  I  have 
feen  thee  pafs  by  our  houfe  in  a  morning  to  rehearfal, 
dreffed  in  a  plain  coat  and  an  uncombed  periwig,  with  a 
ftooping  unafluming  gait,  how  have  I  been  aftonifhed  at 
refledling  that  this  was  the  fame  man  who,  in  the  even- 
ing when  he  walked  the  ftage  as  a  king  or  general,  feem- 
ed  born  to  command  !  Thy  reprefentations  of  the  human 
character,  at  thofe  moments,  were  to  me  a  fchool  of 
v/ifdom,  while  by  thy  condu6l  off  the  ftage  thou  didft  in- 
ftrud  me  how  to  feparatc  real  merit  from  external  os- 
tentation. 

As  Richard  the  Third,  Duke  Michael,  Odoardo,  and 
Father  Rode,  Eckhof  was  unrivalled.  Plays  were  per- 
formed three  nights  in  the  week,  and  my  obtaining  per- 
miffion  to  be  prefent  at  them  depended  partly  on  my 
general  good  behaviour,  partly  on  my  particular  dili- 
gence in  my  dudies.  A  French  governefs  was  in  thofc 
days  chief  arbitrefs  of  the  fupreme  bhfs  of  my  life. 
With  her  I  ufed  to  re^d  and  tranflate  Madame  de  Beau- 
mont's  w6rks,  and  every  day  had  a  teftimonial  home 
with  me,  confifting  either  of  Ion,  mediocre^  or  the  dreadful 
word  mal.  If  the  latter,  adieu  to  all  thoughts  of  the 
piay  for  that  evening,  as  my  mother  was  never  accefli- 
ble  to  entreaties.  How  often,  therefore,  when  Ma- 
dame LouvePs  pen  was  dipped  into  the  ink  to  write  the 
fatal  word  mal,  have  I  taken  her  beautiful  white  hand, 
kilTed  it,  and  bathed  it  with  my  tears,  till  I  could  pre- 
vail on  her  to  moderate  the  feverity  of  my  fentence  at 
leaft  into  mediocre  ! 

C 


26  LIFE  OF  KOTZEBUE. 

My  paflion  for  the  llage  increafed  every  day.  As 
the  theatre  was  entirely  fupported  by  the  court,  there 
xvas  no  paying  for  admiffion,  but  a  limited  number  of 
tickets  were  regularly  given  out.  Thus,  on  feftival  days, 
when  a  new  piece  or  fome  grand  pantomime  ballet  was 
to  be  performed,  and  the  concourfe  of  company  who 
wifhed  to  be  prefent  was  confequently  unufually  great, 
it  often  happened  that  fo  infignificant  a  perfonage  as 
myfelf  could  not  procure  a  ticket.  But  as  my  curiofity 
was  on  fuch  occaficns  more  ftrongly  excited  than  everj 
I  was  obliged  to  have  recourfe  to  ftratagem  for  its  grati- 
fication. Every  avenue  leading  to  the  theatre,  every 
corner  of  the  houfe,  was  as  well  known  to  me  as  the  in- 
fide  of  my  coat-pocket,  even  the  paflages  under  the  ftage. 
were  as  familiar  to  me,  as  to  the  man  that  lighted  the 
lamps.  When  Iwas  hard  prelTed  for  admittance  therefore,, 
I  ufed  to  (land  at  the  entrance  allotted  to  the  perform- 
ers, and  flip  in  dexteroufly  behind  the  guards.  Then,  to 
efcape  purfuit,  I  crept  inftantly  under  the  ftage,  whence 
a  little  door  led  into  the  orcheftra.  Through  this  I  got 
behind  the  great  drum,  which  being  fomewhat  elevated, 
completely  concealed  my  little  perfon,  and  here  I  could 
fee  the  performers  very  commodioufly. 

Would  to  heaven  I  had  always  {hewn  equal  addrefs 
with  refped  to  the  great  drama  of  the  world  !  That  I 
had  never  engaged  in  contefts  with  malice  and  envy, 
which  fland  as  guards  every  where,  but  had  only  ftolen 
in  behind  them,  not  venturing  upon  the  llage  myfelf, 
but  remaining  underneath  it,  or  at  leaft  in  the  orcheftra, 
concealed  by  the  great  drum.    Happy  the  trimmers  of 


LIFE  OF  KOTZEBUE. 


27 


the  lamps,  who  are  never  clapped  or  hiffed,  and  who, 
perhaps  at  home,  as  they  reprefent  a  contented  family 
fccne,  can  exclaim  with  Greffet : 

Une  eternite  de  gloire, 
Vaut-elle  un  jour  de  bonheur  ? 

I  may  venture  to  affert,  that  among  all  the  frequent- 
ers of  the  theatre,  old  or  young,  I  was  alw^ays  the  moft 
attentive.  I  need  only  adduce  in  proof  of  my  attention, 
that  I  could  repeat  the  whole  of  Leffing's  Emilia  Ga- 
lotti  by  heart,  without  ever  having  leen  the  book.  It 
muft,  however,  be  obferved,  and  'tis  much  to  the  honor 
of  the  tafte  then  prevalent  in  W eimar,  formed  under  the 
influence  of  an  amiable  and  difcerning  Princefs,  that 
Emilia  Galotti  was  performed  very  frequently,  and  al- 
ways to  full  houfes.  The  part  of  Odoardo  was  played 
by  Eckhof,  and  was  undoubtedly  his  firft  charadler. 
Madame  Mecour  as  Emiha,  Bock  as  the  Prince,  his 
wife  as  Claudia,,  and  above  all,  Madame  S;:iler  as  Orfi- 
na,  united  tod  J  (lice  .o  .his  -  cetvrc  f  dramatic 
poetry.  The  Grateful  iS  by  Engel,  was  alfoinmy 
opin'on  wonderfully  imprefiive,  and  my  reigning  favor- 
ite next  to  Emilia  Galotti.  I  l.  on  perfuaded  my  young 
companions  to  engage  with  me  in  performing  both  thefe 
pieces  at  our  hours  of  play,  and  I  alternately  undertook 
every  charadler. 

Nothing  could  equal  the  veneration  with  which  I  at 
that  time  regarded  any  acftor,  how  moderate  foever 
might  be  his  profelTional  talents.    Could  I  but  throw 


28 


lIPE  OF  KOTZEBtJE. 


myfelf  in  the  way  of  one  off  the  ftage,  fo  as  to  hear  him 
fpeak,  I  was  tranfported  in  no  flight  degree,  but  if  I 
could  contrive  only  to  fpeak  a  fingle  word  to  him  my- 
feif,  my  extacy  exceeded  all  bounds,  and  I  thought  my- 
felf honored  beyond  the  common  lot  of  mortals.  Well 
do  I  remember  how  I  ufed  to  go  every  Sunday  to  a  per- 
lon  of  the  nameofHenfel,  to  learn  what  plays  were  to 
be  performed  in  the  enfuing  week,  for  at  that  time  play- 
bills were  not  given  out  as  at  prefent.  At  home  I  made 
all  things  fubfervient  to  my  theatrical  mania.  It  was 
not  enough  for  me  to  perform  a  paftoral  drama  occafion- 
ally  on  a  birth-day,  every  new  piece  that  fell  in  my 
way  mull  inftantly  be  murdered. by  myfelf  and  my  corps. 
At  length  I  obtained  polTeflion  of  Gerftenberg's  Ugoli- 
no,  an  excellent  drama,  and  well  deferving  of  a  much 
higher  reputation  than  it  has  hitherto  obtained.  I  re- 
garded it  as  an  ineftimable  treafure,  fmce  as  containing 
but  few  charafters,  I  thought  it  admirably  adapted  to 
our  private  performances.  It  never  once  occurred  to  me 
that  though  the  charadlers  were  few  in  number,  every 
one,  to  have  juftice  done  it,  required  an  aftor  at  the  very 
head  of  his  profeflion.  I  undertook  the  part  of  Anfelmo, 
and  perorated  it  with  all  the  fire  of  my  ardent  imagina- 
tion. 

I  mentioned  above,  the  grand  pantomimical  ballets. 
Thefe  were  performed  in  a  very  fuperb  ftile  at  Weimar. 
With  tranfport  do  I  now  recal  to  remembrance  the  bril- 
liant reprefentation  of  Idris  and  Zenida,  Orpheus  and 
Euridice,  Incle  and  Yarico,  the  Amazonians,  and  ma« 
ny  others.    The  latter  was  not  the  lefs  powerfully  re* 


LIFE  OF  KOTZEBUE. 


29 


commended  to  rnc,  n-om  the  hints  for  it  being  furnifhed 
by  Mafasus. 

Thefe  ballets  had  the  fame  efic^l  upon  my  fenfes,  as 
the  regular  dramas  had  upon  my  feehngs,  and  I  foon  de- 
vifed  means  for  imitating  them  alfo.  I  made  myfelf  a 
little  theatre,  firft  of  waxj  then  of  paper,  and  at  length 
of  wood.  Thofe  among  my  youthful  afTociates  who 
could  paint,  were  employed  upon  my  fcenery,  and  my 
mother  and  aunt  were  fet  to  work  at  patching  pieces  of 
filk  together,  to  make  drelTes  for  my  puppets.  They 
danced  tlielr  folos,  and  pas-de-deux  by  means  of  wires, 
and  the  lightning  was  made  by  fcmen  lycopodu  blown 
through  a  quill  into  the  candle.  Thus  was  every  new 
ballet  prefented  to  the  public  by  MefTrs.  Koch  and 
Schutz,  fpeedily  exhibited  upon  my  private  ftage.  The 
tafle  for  thio  hind  of  toy  foon  ipread  among  the  children 
at  vVeimar^  and  no  long  period  elapfed  before  almoll 
every  boy  had  Lis  Lilliputian  theatre,  while  my  vanity 
was  not  a  little  flattered  by  being  conllantly  applied  to 
for  inllruftion  in  the  ufj  of  the  diminutive  machinery. 
Oh  !  condemn  me  not,  ye  wife,  for  dwelling  fo  long 
upon  thefe  childiili  fports  ;  the  powerful  influence  they 
had  on  m/  future  charader  is  fure'y  a  fufficient  excufe 
for  fuch  loquacity. 

But  even  in  the  meridian  of  my  joys,  happened  that 
dreadful  fire  which  laid  the  palace  at  Weimar  in  aflies, 
when  confcquently  the  theatre,  which  was  within  its 
precinct,  that  ultimatum  of  all  my  wilhes,  of  ail  my 
happinefs  was  demolilhed  forever.  This  tragical  event 
C  2 


30 


LIFE  OF  KOTZEBUE. 


took  place  on  the  very  day  when  Diderot's  Pere  de  Fa- 
villle  was  to  have  been  played.  A  fealt  to  which  I  had 
looked  forward  with  more  than  common  delight — de- 
light alas,  never  to  be  realized. 

The  company  was  now  difmiffed,  and  retired  to  Go- 
tha.    Oh,  how  many  a  fhower  of  bitter  tears  did  I  fhcd 
at  their  departure  !  Yes,  I  muft  once  more  repeat  it,  'tis 
to  the  imprefiions  made  upon  me  during  that  period, 
that  I  owe  the  principal  features  of  my  prefent  charac- 
ter.*   From  a  firm  conviflion  of  its  utility  in  forming 
the  tafte  and  morals,  I  ftrongly  recommend  to  aU  pa- 
rents and  tutors,  if  fortunately  they  live  in  the  vicinity 
of  a  well  regulated  theatre,  tocarry  their  children  and  pu- 
pils very  frequently  to  that  fchool.  A  good  drama  is  the 
moft  fpeedy  and  effeftual  of  ail  mediums  through  which 
to  communicate  inftruftion  to  the  infant  heart,  to  awa- 
ken in  it  an  abhorrence  of  vice,  to  imprefs  it  with  a  love 
of  virtue,  and  to  excite  it  to  every  thing  great  and  good. 
The  objedlion  commonly  made,  that  frequent  attendance 
upon  theatrical  amufements  tends  to  diffipate  the  minds 
of  children,  I  confider  as  wholly  futile.    Never  did  I 
purfue  my  ftudies  with  greater  affiduity,  never  did  I 
make  a  more  rapid  progrefs  in  them,  than  whea  infpired 
by  the  hope  of  having  my  diligence  rewarded  with  per- 
miflion  to  attend  the  theatre  in  the  evening  ;  whereas,  on 

*  J'ai  toujours  reconnu  Tefprit  des  jeunes  gens,  au  detail  qu'ils 
faifaient  d'une  piece  nouvelle  qu'ils  venaient  d'entendre  ;  et  j'ai 
remarque  que  tous  ccux  qui  s'cn  acquittaicnt  le  mieux,  ont  ete 
ceuxqui  depuis  ont  icquis  le  plus  de  reputation  dans  leurs  emplois, 
Tant  il  eft  vrai,  qu'au  fond,  I'efprit  des  affaires,  et  le  veritable 
efprit  des  bdks  lettres,  eft  le  meme,  Voltaire. 


LIFE   OF  KOTZEBUE. 


the  contrary,  when  this  charm  was  loft,  I  funk  for  a 
while  into  a  ftate  of  extreme  apathy  and  indolence. 

Should  any  one  here  exclaim  with  uplifted  hands, 
**  What  an  impious  wretch  !  to  admonifh  parents  againft 
*'  taking  their  children  to  church,   and  recommend 
<'  their  being  carried  to  the  play  !" — I  can  only  anfwer 
with  a  fhrug  of  my  (houlders,  "  I  am  not  refponfible 
**  if  the  fermon  and  drama,  two  paths  intended  to  lead 
"  to  the  fame  termination,  do  not  equally  anfwer  the 
"  deilined  purpofe.    Whatever  contributes  towards 
**  improving  the  morals  of  mankind  I  regard  as  facred, 
"  without  confidering  what  appellation  it  may  bear, 
u  Wei-e  the  fame  effeft  produced  by  a  fermon,  as  by  a 
play,  I  would  recommend  the  one  as  earneftly  as  the 
other,  but  till  I  can  be  convinced  that  this  is  the  caff, 
**  I  muft  hold  to  my  prefent  opinion.    What  if  fermons 
**  be  preached  gratis  ?  is  that  a  reafon  why  they  fhould 
"  be  dull  and  tedious  ?  is  that  a  fuflicient  excufe  for 
"  wearying  the  patience  of  an  audience  ? — Let  me  afk 
"  any  man  upon  his  confcience,  whether,  if  he  muft  be 
"  compelled  to  choofe  between  two  evils,  he  would  not 
"  rather  fee  a  bad  play,  than  hear  a  bad  fermon 

I  had  been  now  for  fome  tim.e  a  fcholar  at  the  Gym- 
nafuim  at  Weimar,  an  inftitution  in  which  there  was  then 
great  room  for  improvement.  I  commenced  my  career 
in  the  third  clafs,  in  which  the  pupils  among  other  ufe- 
lefs  things  were  all  compelled  to  learn  Hebrew.  Was 
it  then  fuprifing  that  inftead  of  attending  regularly  at 
the  fchool  hours,  I  fhould  often  fpend  that  time  pri- 
vately with  %  fchoolfellow,  who  v/as  educated,  or  per- 


32  LIFE   OF  IIOTZEBUE. 

/ 

haps  I  fiiould  rather  fay  fpoiled,  by  an  over  fond  uncle, 
when  we  were  commonly  occupied  in  forming  plans  for 
afting  plays.  I  remember  well  that  we  had  once  deter- 
mined on  performing  The  Bufy  Idlers,  and  had  adlually 
been  employed  for  fevcral  days  in  writing  out  the  differ- 
ent parts,  before  wc  perceived  that  it  wa'j  the  fevereft 
fatire  pcflible  upon  ourfelves. 

In  the  fecond  clafs  our  iludies  w^re  ordered  fomewhat 
better,  though  even  there  the  pupils  were  employed  in 
many  things,  which,  to  fay  the  truth,  anfwered  no  pur- 
pcfe  but  to  murder  tim.e.  Among  others  may  be 
rtckoned  the  making  of  Latin  verfes,  which  was  ex- 
pecled  of  all  the  fcholars  whether  they  had  talents  for 
it  or  not.  The  worthy  Mufaeus,  m.uch  againft  his  in- 
clination, was  our  tutor  in  this  branch  of  learning.  But 
if  fome  of  our  time  was  mifemployed,  it  muft  alfo  be 
acknowledged  that  we  acquired  much  valuable  learning 
and  knowledge  at  this  feminary.  This  was  indeed  prin- 
cipally to  be  afcribed  to  the  attention  and  judgment  of 
the  excellent  man  above-mentioned.  By  him  we  were 
exercifed  in  writing  letters,  an^d  it  is  well  knoAvn  that 
FiObody  ever  excelled  more  in  epiftolary  writings  than 
Mufaeus.  An  hour  in  every  week  was  befides  devoted 
to  poetr}-,  and  as  this  was  on  Saturday,  I  always  locked 
forward  to  that  day  with  particular  dehght.  The  forms 
obferved  on  thefe  occafions  were  thus  regulated. 

At  the  appointed  time  Mufaeus  came  among  the  clafs 
and  enquired  whether  any  fcholar  had  a  poetical  compo- 
fition  of^his  own  to  produce,  for  this  was  very  properly 


LIFE  OF  KOTZEBl'E. 


39 


a  perfedly  voluntary  thing  on  the  part  of  the  youth. 
Yet  he  fcarely  ever  failed  of  finding  fome  bafhful  wooers 
of  the  mufes,  who  with  downcaft  eyes  fignified  that  they 
had  been  taking  a  canter  upon  Pegafus.  The  roftrum 
was  immediately  refigned  to  the  juvenile  poet,  who 
afcended  it  and  read  his  produ6lion,  while  the  maftei* 
walked  up  and  down  in  filence  with  his  hands  behind 
him.  At  the  conclulion  of  each  piece,  the  work  was 
criticifed  by  the  latter,  though  not  with  the  fame  feverity 
as  is  cuftomary  among  the  critical  corps  in  the  world  at 
large.  When  the  original  productions  were  exhaufted, 
this  clafs  of  orators  were  fucceeded  by  thofe  who  had 
only  learned  by  heart  the  works  of  others  as  exercifes  in 
declamation.  But  here  too  all  was  voluntary.  Each 
individual  felefled  for  himfelf,  or  took  no  fiiare  whatever 
in  the  exercife,  entirely  at  his  own  option.  Thefe  reci- 
tations concluded,  Mufaeus  here  criticifed  the  deliver)'-, 
as  in  the  former  inflance  the  compofition,  in  both  giv- 
ing his  reafons  for  every  remark  that  he  made.  How 
much  happier  in  thisrefpeft  were  we,  than  are  the  great 
mafs  of  authors,  whofe  works  are  commonly  criticifed  by 
the  world  at  large  without  any  reafon  at  all. 

As  when  a  child  I  would  only  draw  my  pious  orifons 
from  the  fources  of  my  own  heart,  fo  now  I  would  not 
offer  up  to  the  God  of  poetry  the  efiufions  of  others,  but 
was  always  among  the  fmall  number  who  produced  their 
own  weeds  from  the  garden  of  PamalTus.  To  this  day  I 
have  in  my  poffeflion  feveral  trifles  compofed  for  thefe  oc- 
cafions,  which,  without  incurring  the  cenfure  of  a  too 
great  partiality  for  my  own  offspring,  I  think  I  might  ven- 


34 


LIFE  OF  KOTZEBUE. 


ture  to  aflert  would  not  be  among  the  worit  produ£lion3 
that  ufually  compofe  the  Almanacks  of  the  Mufes. 

At  that  time  ballads  were  much  the  rage.  The  Al- 
manacks fwarmed  with  terrific  legends  of  knights  and 
ghofts,  which,  as  tales  of  horror,  could  not  fail  of  excit- 
ing my  warmeft  admiration  ;  nor  was  it  unnatural  in  my 
ardour  of  author/hip,  that  I  fiiould  be  infpired  with  a 
fecret  ambition  of  rivaling  them.  I  therefore  compoied 
a  ballad  in  the  very  higheft  flights  of  the  ruHng  tafte,  a 
part  of  which  I  have  Hill  among  my  papers.  It  contain- 
ed a  fumptuous  banquet,  and  a  horrible  murder ;  a  ghoft 
appeared  preaching  repentance,  and  the  obdurate  fmner 
was  at  length  carried  away  by  the  devil.  The  verifica- 
tion was,  however,  eafy  and  correal. 

On  the  following  Saturday,  I  fcarcely  knew  how  to 
wait  for  the  appointed  hour,  bq|bre  I  produced  this 
mafter-piece.  The  important  moment  airived — my 
heart  palpitated — I  afcended  the  roftrum,  and  read  my 
performance  with  a  tremulous  voice — ^but  how  did  my 
eyes  fparkle,  how  did  my  bofom  fwell  with  tranfport, 
when  at  the  conclufion  Mufgeus  faid — O  words  never 
to  be  forgotten  ! — "  Good  !  very  good  ! — from  w:hat 
"  Almanack  did  you  borrow  it  ?" — Conceive,  reader,  if 
thou  canft — but  no,  'tis  impoflible  to  conceive  with  v/hat 
exultation  I  anfwered,  "  It  is  my  own  writing.'' 

"  Indeed  ?"  faid  Mufeus,  "  Well,  well,  Bravo  !  go 
"on!" — I  Was  almoll  befide  myfclf  and  would  not 
have  parted  with  the  feelings  of  that  moment  to  purchafe 
a  kingdom.  With  checks  glowing  with  dehght  I  re- 
turned to  my  feat,  and  as  I  obfervcd  tliat  the  eyes  of  all 


LIFE   OF  KOTZEBUE. 


my  fchcol-fellows  were  fixed  upon  me,  I  concealed  my 
face,  with  oftentatious  modelly,  in  the  blue  cloak  which 
all  the  fcholars  were  obliged  to  wear. 

From  that  moment,  I  confidered  myfelf  as  really  a 
poet.  Mufjeus  had  faid  bravo  !  Mufaeus  could  think 
that  the  ballad  was  taken  from  an  Almanack — a  fpecies 
of  publication  for  which  at  that  time  I  entertained  a 
very  high  refpeft — who  then  could  queftion  my  claim 
to  be  confidered  as  a  fon  of  the  Mufes  ^ — -I  had  now 
proceeded  in  my  career,  and  againft  every  Saturday  com-» 
pofed  fomething  new,  but  as  it  appeared  to  me  that 
nothing  could  poflibly  equal  my  ballad,  I  contentedly 
repofed  under  my  laurels,  only  gratifying  my  childifh 
vanity  by  always  carrying  the  beloved  babe  in  my  pock- 
et, that  no  opportunity  of  fpreading  its  fame  might 
be  loft  by  its  not  being  at  hand  when  I  met  with  any 
one  fo  good  natured  as  to  requeft  the  perufal  of  it. 

Happily  for  me,  Mufeeiis  underilood  as  well  how  to 
check  conceit,  as  to  encourage  genius.  Som.e  months 
after,  when  the  time  v/as  approaching  at  which  both  tu- 
tors and  pupils  v.'ere  to  make  an  exhibition  of  their 
talents  at  a  public  examination  before  a  numerous  audi- 
ence, Mufaeus  wifhing  the  examiners  to  beprefented  with 
fome  fpecimens  of  the  fcholars'  progrefs  in  compcfition, 
defired  thofe  whom  he  thought  capable  of  it,  to  recite 
poems  of  their  own  writing.  When  it  came  to  my  turn, 
and  he  advied  me  what  I  fhould  produce  upon  the  occa- 
fion,  I  anfwcred  v/ithout  hefitation  and  with  perfect 
feif-fatigfaaion,  "  my  bana4.'* 


36 


LIFE  OF  KOTZEBUE, 


"  Your  ballad,''  he  replied,  «  whatbaUad  V' 

"  The  fame  that  Mr.  Profeflbr  was  pleafed  to  com- 

mend  fo  highly  fome  months  ago,"  I  returned,  with 

4  confidence  and  felf-fufficieocy  that  Mr.  ProfelTor  could 

not  endure. 

"  Pfiiaw       he  replied,  "  away  vath.  the  fdly  thing 

which  I  had  long  ago  forgotten.  No,  no,  pray  let  us 
**  have  fomething  new,  fomething  worth  hearing.'* 

I  was  thunderftruck.  The  mighty  fabric  of  vanity 
erefted  in  my  bofom  was  overthrown  in  an  inftant,  and 
Shame  flood  weeping  over  the  ruins.  What  was  to  be 
done  ? — I  muft  call  off"  the  laurel-wreath  beneath  which 
I  had  fo  long  contentedly  Numbered,  and  which  I  now 
firil  difco^  ered  to  be  withered,  and  endeavour  to  deferve 
a  frefti  crown. 

Piqued  as  I  was,  however,  I  roufed  all  my  energies, 
refolving  to  do  fomething  that  fnould  not  difgrace  my 
former  attainments.  I  feledled  from  Miller^s  Moral 
Pidure^  the  Hory  of  the  Unnatural  Son,  who  kept  his 
father  in  confinement,  of  which  the  foUowijig  is  an  ab- 
ftraft.  A  prodigal  was  once  celebrating  a  grand  fefti- 
val  at  his  caftle,  when  one  of  the  guells,  for  want  of 
room,  was  lodged  at  night  in  a  remote  apartment  at  the 
end  of  a  long  and  folitary  pafTage.  At  midnight  the 
chamber-door  opened,  and  a  wretched,  wan,  meagre 
figure,  loaded  with  chains,  tottered  in.  He  went  up 
to  the  chimney,  and  fcraping  together  the  few  remaining 
embers,  fat  down  to  warm  his  trembling  hands.  The 
gueft  aftonifhed,  ftarted  up  in  his  bed,  and  examining 
this  fpirit,  as  at  firft  he  was  almofl  inclined  to  think  it, 


LIFE  OF  KOTZEBUE. 


37 


foon  recognized  the  features  of  his  old  friend,  the  father 
of  his  then  hoft.  Through  the  univerfal  buftle  in  the 
houfe,  his  guards  had  not  watched  him  with  their  ufual 
care,  and  thus  he  had  gotten  loofe,  and  was  ftroUing 
about  that  part  of  the  caftle.  This  dreadful,  but  alas  ! 
true  ftory,  I  put  into  verfe,  and  once  more  gained 
great  applaufe  from  my  my  tutor. 

Out  of  the  fchool-hours  I  alfo  enjoyed  the  inftru£lion 
of  that  worthy  nian  in  many  very  important  matters. 
From  thefe  private  ledlures  I  derived  much  mpre  advan- 
tage than  from  the  public  ones,  fince  they  were  devoted 
folely  to  fonning  my  tafte  and  morals.  By  them  I  learn- 
ed thoroughly  to  know  and  value  the  excellent  heart, 
and  amiable  domeftic  virtues  of  my  inftrudlor,  and  from 
valuing  was  infenfibly  led  to  imitate  them.  Daily  did 
my  affeclionate  efteem  for  him  encreafe,  although  he  was 
fometimes  pretty  fevere  with  me.  I  cannot  here  for- 
l^ear  relating  ^n  anecdote,  partly  becaufe  it  ftiews  his 
ftrong  propenfity  to  fatire  even  in  the  punifliment  of 
thofe  under  his  tuition,  and  partly  becaufe  I  think  that 
the  more  I  fpeak  of  Mufaeus,  the  more  entertaining  and 
valuable  I  fhall  make  my  flietch. 

I  had  been  guilty  of  fome  boyifh  piece  of  mifchief, 
I  do  not  now  recolleft  what,  and  my  mother,  who 
fhrunk  from  punifhing  me  herfelf,  gave  me  an  Uriah's 
letter  to  Mufaeus,  requefting  that  he  would  infiift  on  me 
fuch  correction  as  he  judged  proportionate  to  the  of- 
fence. He  read  the  letter,  reprefented  my  tranfgreflion 
to  me  very  calmly^  though  very  forcibly,  and  then  or- 
dered a  ftick  to  be  brought  from  the  wood-houfe.  The 
P 


LIFE  OF  KOTZEBUE. 


ftick  was  brought — it  was  a  wUow  ftaff  which  ha4 
grown  fomewhat  crooked.  He  looked  at  it  with  a 
fmile,  took  me  by  the  arm,  gave  me  feveral  fmart  llrokes 
over  the  back  and  fhoulders,.  and  then  very  coolly,  and 
with  an  air  of  the  iitmoft  pohtenefs,  begg<!d  my  pardoix 
for  having  yfed  a  crooked  weapon. 

Xhis  piece  of  banter  wounded  me  much  more  deeply 
than  the  fevereft  chaftifement.  I  never  forgot  it,  and 
reminding  him  of  the  circumftance  fome  years  after,  we 
laughed  at  it  together  very  heartily.  I  mull  however 
obferve,  and  Mufiseus  himfelf  acknowledged  the  fame 
thing,  that  this  is  a  very  improper  mode  of  correftion 
for  any  tutor  to  pra^ife.  Nothing  is  fo  exafperating 
to  the  young  mind  as  farcafni,  nor  does  any  thing  weak- 
en the  force  of  chaftifement  like  its  being  accompanied 
with  infult.  For  myfelf  I  muft  confefs,  that  my  bofom 
was  for  many  weeks  imprefied  with  a  ftrong  feehng  of 
refentment  at  this  humiliation,  nor  perhaps  had  it  eafily 
been  got  over,  had  I  not  been  fo  long  acc.uftomed  to 
love  and  refpeft  Mufaeus,  that  I  fcarcely  knew  how  to 
regard  him  with  other  fenfations;  and  a  few  words  of 
encouragem.ent  to  my  talents,  which  from  his  mouth  I 
always  confidered  as  invaluable,  fliortly  after  finally 
fealed  his  pardon. 

While  I  was  in  the  fecond  ckfs,  I  made  another  ef- 
fort at  dramatic  writing.  I  felefted  Catahne's  Confpi- 
racy  as  my  fubjecl.,  and  com.pofed  on  it  a  tragedy  of 
five  afts,  which  filled  at  leaft  half  a  quire  of  paper.  When 
it  was  finifned,  I  applied  to  a  fchool-fellow  of  the  name 


LIFE  OF   KOTZEBUE.  39 

of  Hiigel,  who  was  grown  up,  and  was  confidered  by 
the  whole  clafs  as  a  great  genius,  with  profound  humi- 
lity requeuing  him  to  read  my  produ6lion,  and  fubjoin 
his  remarks  upon  it  at  the  end.  This  iie  did,  and 
paffcd  his  fentence  in  the  following  words  :  "  Very 
"  well,  only  a  man  cannot  addrefs  one  whom  he  calls 
"  my  Lord,  as  thou*?" 

In  a  moment  the  refpeft  I  had  entertained  for  this 
fubhme  genius,  as  he  was  called,  vanifhed,  and  was  de- 
graded into  compaflion.  From  the  pieces  I  had  feezi 
performed,  founded  upon  Grecian  and  Roman  ftories, 
I  knew  perfe<Jlly  well  that  it  was  not  only  admiffible, 
but  even  cuftomary,  among  thofe  nations  to  addrefs  all 
perfons,  how  exalted  foever  their  ftations^  in  the  ftyle  I 
had  ufed,  and  I  therefore  fettled  the  matter  to  my  own 
entire  fatisfaftion,  that  fince  the  great  Hiigel  could  ilot 
find  any  other  fault  with  my  tragedy,  it  was  eonfequent- 
ly  faultlefs.  Had  Eckhof  been  then  at  Weimar,  I  veri- 
ly believe  my  vanity  had  even  led  me  with  great  humil- 
ity to  offer  him  the  piece  for  reprefentation^  and  hum- 
bly to  requeft  that  he  would  himfelf  undertake  the  part 
of  Cicero. 

My  happieft  efforts  were  commonly  fmall  poefnsj  in 
which  feehng  was  the  predominant  feature,  and  even 
now  I  recolleft  with  a  foft  and  foothing  pleafure,  fome 
verfes  I  once  made  upon  my  excellent  mother's  birth- 
day.   Our  mufic  mailer  fet  them,  my  fiftef  Was  to  ling 

*  To  addrefs  a  perfon  of  rank  in  Germany  as  thou  is  con- 
fiiered  as  a  very  flagrant  violation  of  propriety.  The  proper 
modi  of  addrefs  h  in  the  third  perfon  plural.  Thansbator, 


40 


LIFE  OF  KOTZEBUE* 


them  to  her  harpfichord,  I  accompanying  her  with  m^'- 
flute,  and  our  mafter  with  the  bafs.  All  this  was  ar- 
ranged, the  performance  rehearfed  in  private,  and  on 
the  morning  of  the  appointed  day  we  furprifed  my 
Kiother  with  our  little  cantata.  Happy  the  man  who 
can  boall  like  fcenes  of  love  and  innocence  fiored  up  in 
his  memory  !  They  are  medicines  preferved  in  a  fmall 
cheft  which  may  remain  long  unopened,  but  when  the 
foul  is  in  a  ftate  of  fuffering,  we  apply  to  the  precious 
drops,  and  find  them  a  falutary  balfam. 

In  that  tender  age  when  the  mind,  like  a  young  tree, 
bends  with  every  blaft,  whatever  it  produces  is  mere 
imitation.  lam  convinced  indeed,  that  original  ideas  are 
fcarcely  to  be  expedled  from  any  man  before  he  arrives 
at  the  age  of  maturity.  For  myfelf  I  can  fafely  fay, 
that  ail  the  produdlions  of  my  early  years  were  compof-  p 
ed  on  hints  taken  from  others,-  commonly  from  the  laft 
thing  I  had  read. 

At  that  time  the  dramas  of  Brandes  were  in  confide- 
rable  repute,  for  amid  the  barren  wafte  of  our  dramatic 
literature  it  was  confoling  to  meet  with  a  fingle  flower, 
even  though  no  more  than  a  pale  violet.  I  wrote  a  co- 
medy, which  I  called,  JIPs  Well  that  Ends  Well,  and 
which,  unlefs  I  deceive  myfelf,  flirongly  refembled  the 
Count  von  Oljbach.  Madame  Wattel,  one  of  my  prin- 
cipal charaders,  was  formed  on  the  exa£l  model  of 
Madame  Wandcl.  Goethe  was  then  a  frequent  vifitor 
at  our  houfe.  He  heard  of  my  comedy,  and  was  fo  con- 
defcending,  or  fo  pohte,  as  to  defirc  to  read  it.  This 
gave  my  mother  infinite  delight,  and  perhaps  the  pleaf- 


V 


LIFE  OF  KOTZEBUE. 


41 


ing  her  was  his  principal  view  in  making  the  requeft. 
Never  have  I  fmce  heard  or  feen  any  thing  of  it,  but  it 
mull  have  been  no  fmall  tax  upon  his  patience  if  he  ever 
wafted  any  time  in  reading  it. 

This  extraordinary  man  v^^as  however  always  extreme- 
ly kind  to  me  in  my  boyifh  years.  He  ufed  to  permit 
me  to  make  fnares  for  birds  in  his  garden,  as  I  was  no 
Icfs  an  ardent  fportfman  than  poet.  When  I  went  thi- 
ther by  fix  the  morning,  or  indeed  fometiraes  earlier,  to 
fee  whether  I  had  caught  a  fieldfare  or  a  readbreaft,  he 
would  come  and  talk  to  me  with  great  affability,  and 
exhort  me  to  diligence  in  my  ftudies.  He  perhaps  has 
long  ago  forgotten  fo  trifling  a  circumftance,  but  I  can 
never  forget  it,  fince  every  word  that  fell  from  his  lips 
was,  in  my  opinion,  deferving  of  the  deepeft  attention, 
and  uade  a  much  ftronger  impreffion  upon  me  than  all 
the  common  place  admonitions  of  the  mafs  of  my  fchool- 
preceptors, 

Coethe  had  at  t-hat  time  juft  written  his  charming 
little  dramatic  piece,  The  Brethren.  It  v/as  performed 
at  a  private  theatre  at  Weimar,  he  himfelf  playing 
William,  and  my  fifter,  Mariana,  while  to  me — yes,  to 
me,  was  ailetted  the  important  part  of  the  Poftillion. 
My  readers  may  eafily  imagine  with  v/hat  exultation  I 
trod  the  ft  age,  for  the  firft  time,  before  the  mighty 
public  itfelf.  I  enquired  of  every  body  I  faw,  whether 
or  not  I  had  done  juftice  to  my  charafter  The  un- 
grateful wretches  !  they  fcarcely  remembered  the  ap- 
pearance of  fuch  an  infignificant  being  as  the  Poftillion. 

D2 


42 


LIFE  OF  KOTZEBUE. 


It  was  about  that  period  that  I  firft  read  Goethe's 
Werther.  I  cannot  find  words  to  defcribe  the  over- 
powering emotions  excited  in  my  foul  by  this  wonder- 
ful, philofophical  romance.  From  that  moment  I  con- 
ceived fo  enthufiaftic  an  attachment  to  its  author,  that 
at  his  requefl  I  would  even  readily/  have  run  my  hands 
into  the  fire  to  feek  for  his  loll  fhoe-buckle. 

Another  poet,  whofe  works  are  replete  with  pafiion 
and  animation,  was  alfo  our  frequent  gueft.  This  was 
Khnger.  To  a  fine  and  manly  figure,  he  united  a  cer- 
tain honefty  and  ardour  of  temper  that  charmed  me  ir- 
refiftibly.  AVith  him  and  Mufseus  I  once  made  a  pe- 
deftrian  excurfion  to  Gotha,  to  which  I  always  recur 
with  the  greateft  pleafure.  This  early  and  conftant  in- 
tercourfe  with  fuch  illuftrious  charafters  afforded  oppor- 
tunities of  cultivating  what  talents  I  poffefT^^d,  of  which 
I  fhould  have  been  highly  culpable  not  to  have  availed 
myfelf,  for  giving  them  all  the  polini  the  foundation 
would  admit.  They  were  advantagcs'^iudeed  of  which 
few  young  authors  can  ever  boaft. 

I  was  new  removed  into  the  higheft  clafs,  in  which 
the  deceafed^^einfe  firft  infpired  me  with  a  tafte  for  the 
Latin  language.  In  the  other  claiTes  I  had  regarded 
the  acquifitionof  thisbranch  of  learning  as  fo  much  an  af- 
fair of  mere  mechanifm,  that  it  was  impofTible  it  fhculd 
communicate  any  pleafure  to  the  mind.  But  in  their  leif- 
ure  hours  Heinfe  ufedto  read  Terence  v/ith  his  pupils,  and 
in  fo  mafterly  a  manner,  that  no  particle  of  the  true  attic 
poignancy  was  loft.  This  alone,  of  atl  our  ftudies  in  the 
firft  clafs,  afforded  me  any  entertainment.    Tlie  mifera- 


LIFE   OF  KOTZEHL^r. 


43 


blc  logic  we  Icaraed  from  an  old  fcholaftic,  the  dull 
ledlures  on  ZopPs  dry  Univerfai  Hiftory,  and  many- 
other  things  taught  in  the  fchool-hours,  gave  me  fuch 
an  inveterate  naufea,  that  I  fcarcely  did  any  thing  all 
the  time  but  flily  read  romances  beneath  m,y  cloak. 

At  length  the  day  arrived  in  which  I  was  to  become 
a  ftudc-nt  of  the  great  Academy  at  Jena.  I  was  indeed 
fcarcely  fixteen  years  oM  when  removed  thither.  For 
a  while  I  was  only  a  half  fcholar,  fmce  I  did  not  attend 
at  the  college-meals.  The  Itudy  of  the  dead  and  living- 
languages  v/as  my  principal  object  during  the  firft  yean 
The  high  idea  of  the  Latin  tongue  which  I  had  con- 
ceived cn  becoming  acquainted  with  Terence,  v/as  confi- 
derably  increafed  as  I  proceeded  in  my  ftudies  at  Jena, 
^Veideberg,  at  that  time  one  of  the  afliftanto  there,  but 
now  profelTor  at  Helmftadt,  read  ledlures  in  Horace  for 
an  hour  immediately  after  dinner.  I  cannot  fay  that  this 
time  was  felefted  with  particular  judgment,  f:nce,  in 
the  fummer  months  efpecially,  nothing  lefs  than  the 
high  entertainment  we  received  from  the  le£lures  could 
have  prevented  our  frequently  taking  a  nap.  Weide- 
berg  entered  with  true  philofophical  tafte  into  the  fpirit 
of  the  poet,  and  feparated  with  the  niceft  difcrimination 
the  beauty  of  the  thoughts  from  that  of  the  didtion. 

Vv^ith  the  French  language  I  had  been  a  dabler  from 
my  childhood,  but  in  Jena  I  made  great  proficiency  in 
It.  Boulet,  the  worthy  old  Boulet,  vrzs  no  common 
teacher  of  languages.  Perfe£lly  acquainted  with  the 
bell  aiithoi-3  of  his  csntury,  from  whkh  he  always  ex- 


44 


LIFE   OF  KOTZEBUE. 


trafted  the  fineftpaflagesjnoone  knew  as  well  as  himfelf 
how  to  introduce  them  in  an  appropriate  manner.  He  had 
befides  a  mcft  admirable  talent  at  feafoning  his  inftruc- 
tions  with  wit  and  humour,  and  the  happy  turn  of  his 
thoughts  was  inexhauftible.  My  decided  preference  for 
the  French  language  and  French  authors  was  acquired 
entirely  from  him.  For,  however  ftrange  the  confefiion 
may  appear  from  one  who  is  not  only  himfelf  a  German, 
but  even  a  German  writer ;  yet  I  muft  own,  that  in  the 
department  of  the  Belles-Letters,  and  particularly  in 
the  eafy  and  concife  manner  in  which  their  hiftorical  and 
philofophical  works  are  written,  I  think  we  are  far  be- 
hind the  French.  This  perhaps  is  principally  to  be 
afcribed  to  the  heavinefs  and  harflinefs  of  our  language. 

Yet  it  appears  now  extremely  probable,  that  their 
revolution  may  make  fuch  a  ftagnation  in  hterature,  that 
time  may  be  allowed  us  to  get  the  ftart  of  them  even  in 
thefe  departments,  and  that  before  France  fhail  again 
produce  fuch  hiilorians  and  philofophers  as  have  been 
nurtured  in  her  bofom,  we  may  boaft  more  than  one 
Schiller  in  the  former  line,  more  than  one  Garve  in  the 
latter.  Itahan  I  learned  of  Signor  Valenti,  and  under 
his  tuition  firft  became  acquainted  with  Ariofto. 

Nor  did  my  love  for  the  drama  remain  entirely  with- 
out gratification  at  Jena.  At  the  time  of  my  arrival  I 
found  a  private  theatre  juft  inftituted  among  the  ftu- 
dents  there,  and  it  very  naturally  became  a  primary  ob- 
of  my  eflFort  to  procure  admiffion  as  a  member  of  it. 
yhe  young  ladies  of  the  academies  always  declined  per- 


LIFE   OF  KOTZEBUE. 


45 


forming  among  us  at  this  theatre.  In  this  I  muft  con- 
fefs  that  I  think  they  were  right,  though  the  neceffity  • 
that  hence  arofe  of  dreffing  young  lads  in  women's 
clothes,  was  very  difadvantageous  to  the  performance. 
Notwithilanding  they  might  be  yet  v/ithout  beards,  and 
fcarcely  have  attained  to  the  manly  countenance,  it  was 
impcflible  but  that  they  mull  make  very  aukward  figures 
in  this  change  of  garment  and  character.  On  account 
of  my  youth,  women's  charafters  were  frequently  allot- 
ted to  me,  and  I  cannot  now  recolledl  without  laughing 
having  been  dreffed  in  a  large  hoop  to  play  Madame  von' 
Schmeriing,  in  Grofimann's,  Not  more  than  Six  Dijloes, 
Many  a  fwain  have  I  had  kneeHng  at  my  feet,  as  I  fup- 
ported  the  charafter  of  many  a  young  and  tender  dam- 
fd. 

Befides  all  my  other  purfuits,  I  ftill  continued  to 
forge  rhymes,  which  I  dignified  with  the  name  of  poetry, 
arxd  it  fo  happened  that  within  the  firll  twelve  months  of 
my  academical  career,  I  met  both  with  encouragement 
and  humiliation  in  the  progrefs  of  my  Parnaffian  flights. 
The  latter  arofe  from  my  propenfity  to  imitation  not 
being  yet  extinguiflied. 

Ha\'ing  for  fome  time  apphed  myfelf  clofely  to  Hudy- 
ing  Wieland's  ftyle  of  poetry,  I  began  to  think  that 
fince  his  verfes  v/ere  fo  fmooth  and  eafy  to  read,  they 
muft  confequently  be  very  eafy  to  compofe.  I  there- 
fore wrote  a  Winter^ s  Tale,  in  two  days,  tranfcribed  it 
over  fair  on  the  third,  and  on  the  fourth  difpatched  it  by  • 
the  pofl  to  Wieland,  with  an  oilcntatioufly  mcdefl  letter, 


46 


LIFE  OF  KOTZEBUIi. 


foiiciting  with  great  confidence  a  place  for  my  offspring 
in  the  German  Mercury. 

It  may  eafily  be  fuppofed  that  Wieland  had  concerns 
upon  his  hands  of  much  greater  importance  than  the 
anfwering  of  my  letter.  I  was  not  indeed  perfeftly  fa- 
tisfied  at  its  remaining  unanfwcred,  but  \vas>  however, 
willing  to  pardon  this  negligence,  provided  I  fhould  fee 
my  production  in  print ;  a  fatisfaftion  I  had  not  the 
fmallell  doubt  of  receiving.  Every  month,  therefore, 
I  expedled  the  appearance  of  the  Mercury,  with  ex- 
cefs  of  impatience,  and  eagerly  ran  over  the  lift  of  its 
contents,  aflured  of  finding  my  Winter^s  Tale,  In  the 
firft  month  I  confoled  myfelf  for  my  difappointed  hopes, 
by  the  conviction  that  Wieland  had  only  poftponed  the 
infertion  of  my  production  from  a  fuper-abundance  of 
materials.  But  when  firft  a  quarter,  then  half  a  year, 
pafled  on,  and  ftill  no  tale  appeared,  I  was  vain  and  ab- 
furd  enough  to  perfuade  myfelf  for  a  moment,  that 
Wieland  through  envy  wiftied  to  fupprefs  my  growing 
talents. 

I  do  not  attempt  to  veil  my  weaknefs.  I  hold  ye  up 
a  mirror,  ye  poetafters,  in  which  to  view  yourfelvcs ! 
Two  years  after,  -  when  my  reafon  was  fomewhat 
more  maturcvi,  I  fent  Wieland  another  poem,  called 
Ralph  and  Guldo,  accompanied  by  a  really  raodeft  anon- 
ymous letter.  My  humility  was  then  rewarded  by  the 
pleafure  of  feeing  my  offspring  infertt^d  in  the  very  next 
number. 

But,  as  I  hinted  above,  at  the  fame  time  that  my 
pride  was  fo  mortified  with  regard  to  my  JVtnter^s  TaUt 


LIFE  OF  KOTZEBUE. 


47 


awmtijo:  cbcumftanee  happened,  which  gave  me  great 
encouragement,  and  almoft  effaced  the  chagrin  of  my 
difappointment  in  the  former  inflance,  A  ftudent  of 
the  name  of  -Gether  wa&  drowned  bathing  in  the  Saale, 
and  the  extreme  affli<Slion  into  which  his  intimate  friend 
Schuettdorf  was  plunged  by  his  untimely  fate,  excited 
univerfal  compaffion.  Without  being  acquainted  with 
either  of  the  parties,  I  wrote  fome  verfes  upoa  this  af- 
fe6ling  fuhjedli  which  were  printed  by  SchuettdorS 
himfelf,  and  fet  to  mufic  by  a  compofer  of  great  tafte, 
of  the  name  of  Reiahard, 

Of  three  poems  occafioned  by  this  melancholy  catas- 
trophe, I  was  flattered  with  the  affurance  that  mine  was 
indifputably  the  heft.  This  preference,  united  with 
the  inexprefliblc  pleafure  of  feeing  myfelf  for  the  firft 
time  in  print,  was  quite  fufRcient  to  expunge  all  humil- 
iating recolleftions,  and  I  became  more  ardently  devo- 
ted to  the  rflufes  than  ever. 

The  firft  year  of  my  ftay  at  Jena  was  juft  expired,  when 
my  filler  married  and  fettled  at  Duifturg  upon  the 
Rhine.  From  afieclion  to  her,  and  that  fhe  might  not 
be  immediately  feparated  from  all  her  friends  and  rela- 
tions, I  accompanied  her  home,  promifing  at  the  fame 
time  to  fpend  a  year  at  this  duodecimo  uniyerfity.  The 
journey  to  Duilburg  furnifhed  my  imagination  with  a 
great  variety  of  new  images,  fince,  in  the  courfe  of  it,  I 
favv  the  celebrated  town  of  Caffel,  enriched  by  fo  i^any 
works  of  art,  Frankfort  cn  the  Maine,  and  above  all, 
the  glorious  fcenery  that  rjature  prefents  along  the  banks 


^8 


LIFE  OF  KOTZEBUE, 


of  the  Rhine  from  the  place  where  we  entered  our  yaeht 
till  we  arrived  at  Cologne.  Whoever  wifhes  to  make  an 
experiment  upon  hirafelf,  whether  or  not  he  has  any  turn 
for  poetry,  muft  take  this  journey,  and  if  he  do  not  in 
the  courfe  of  it  find  the  poetical  vein  irrefiftibly  burft 
forth,  he  may  give  up  the  point  at  once. 

I  cannot  forbear  here  inferting  a  humorous  anecclote 
that  occurred  in  the  courfe  of  our  peregrinations.  At 
CafTel  we  happened  accidentally  to  lodge  at  the  fame  ho- 
tel with  Abbott  the  player,  who  had  formerly  been  al- 
moft  the  God  of  my  idolatry  at  Weim^ar,  and  who  now 
carried  on  his  profefiion  in  the  firft-mentioned  town.  The 
rccfpeft  I  had  then  conceive^  for  his  perfon  was  not  by 
any  means  extinguifhed,  and  the  moment  I  efpied  him 
at  table  d^hote,  I  was  all  attention,  nor  could  think  any 
more  of  eating  or  drinking. 

.  On  that  day.yfr/W/yi^  of  Naxos  \<:io  to  be  performed. 
He  was  talking  of  it  at  table,  and  regretting  the  fmall-i 
nefs  of  his  ftage  and  fcantinefs  of  the  decorations  ;  in 
particular  he  complained  heavily  of  the  want  of  a  fun. 
But  fuddenly  turning  to  my  fifter,  who  was  fcarcely  lefs 
attentive  to  him  than  myfelf,  this  Thefeus,  whofe  head 
\yas  already  "  fiivered  o'er  with  age,''  faid,  with  all  the 
gallanti-y  of  a  knight-eiTant  in  the  good  old  days  of 
chivalry,  But  if  you,  Madam,  would  be  fo  obliging 
"  as  to  ftand  in  the  back  ground,  we  ihould  have  no 
**  cccafion  for  any  other  fun." 

It  was  enough.  At  fo  ridiculous  a  hyperbole  my 
profound  refpeft  vaaifhed  in  a  moment  as  with  the  flroke 


LIFE  OF  KOIZEBUE. 


49 


of  an  enchanter's  rod.  I  looked  at  him  earneftly,  fmil-, 
ed,  and  returned  to  eating  my  dinner  with  an  excellent 
appetite. 

One  of  my  firft  anxieties  at  Daiibiirg  was  to  inftitute 
a  private  theatre.  I  did  not  experience  much  difficulty  in 
colkaing  together  a  number  of  young  men,  all  perfed- 
ly  ready  to  ftrut  their  hours  as  kings,  as  heroes,  as  gen- 
erals. A  more  arduous  tafl^  was  to  find  a  place  fuited 
to  our  reprefentations.  This  httle  town,  a-^  is  very  com- 
monly the  cafe  with  little  towns,  was  enveloped  by  a 
thick  cloud  of  prejudices.  The  few  who  pofTelfed  tafte 
had  no  room  large  enough  to  anfwer  our  purpofe,  and 
thofe  who  had  rooms  would  not  fuffer  them  to  undergo 
fuch  profanation. 

In  this  diftrefs,  from  whom  will  it  be  fuppofed  we  re- 
<:eived  alTiftance  ? — But  that  would  never  be  guelTed.  It 
was  even  from  the  venerable  fathers  of  the  convent  of  the 
Minorets.  With  the  utmoft  courtefy  and  politenefs 
they  offered  us  the  ufc  of  their  cloifter,  attended  at  oyr 
rehearfals,  laughed  at  our  jokes,  and  related  with  no 
fmall  pleafure  how  they  themfelves  had  formerly  played 
fcripture  ftories.  Indeed,  truth  obliges  me  to  confefs,  ; 
that  in  general  among  the  cathohc  fliepherds  of  fouls,  I 
have  found  lefs  ecclefiaftical  bigotry,  than  among  the 
paflors  of  the  Proteflant  Church.  The  moment  that 
the  benedicat  tlhi  Dom'mus  is  pronounced  over  the  latter, 
tliey  feemto  confider  themfelves  as  beings  of  a  fuperior 
order  ;  the  former  never  forget  that  they  are  men  ;  and 
if  in  matters  of  faith,  they  are  fomewhat  intolerant,  they 
K 


50 


LIF.E   OF  KOTZEBUE- 


<;ertainly  pra£life  much  more  forbearance  towards  the 
fraihies  of  human  nature.  Hell  is  indeed  equally  their 
bugbear  for  frightening  their  deluded  fellow-creatures, 
but  with  them  there  is  Hill  feme  hope  of  efcaping  from 
it ;  whereas,  with  the  Proteftant,  'tis  once  there  and  al- 
ways there.  In  fhort,  whoever  is  condemned  to  fail  into  the 
hands  of  a  prieft,  will  ftand  a  much  better  chance  with  ^ 
monk  than  with  a  fuperintendant. 

In  the  cloiller  of  the  Minorets'  Convent,  to  the  afton- 
ifliment,  the  delight,  and  the  fcandal  of  the  Duifburg 
public,  we  performed  the  play  of  The  Rivals,  Since 
the  creation  of  the  world,  never  probably  was.  the  clois-i 
ter  of  a  convent  fo  profaned  ;  and  whoever  had  feen  fuch 
a  place  crouded  with  females  dreffed  in  their  beH:  attire, 
might  well  have  af|ced  himfelf,  "  Where  am  I  l-^\s  this 
"  a  dream,  or  am  I  really  within  monaftic  walls 

The  moft  ridiculous  part  of  the  ftory  was,  that  for 
want  of  a  fufiicient  number  of  performers,  I  played  two 
charadlers— no  lefs  thai"i  Julia,  and  the  young  fquire 
Ackerland*.  "Wherever  thefe  two  were  to  appear  to- 
gether, I  providently  made  fuch  alterations  as  would  a- 
dapt  it  to  my  purpofe  ;  an4  in  the  damfei's  character  I 
wore  the  drefs  of  an  Amazon,  fo  contrived,  as  that  it 
could  be  changed  in  an  inftant  when  I  was  to  make  my 
appearance  as  the  clownifh  fquire.  After  thefe  and  the 
like  fafliions  did  I  compel  every  difficulty  to  v^nifh  be* 
fore  my  theatrical  rage. 

*  ProbabU"^  this  was  Sheridan's  admirable  comedy  of  the  Ri- 
vals, and  a  miflake  is  hsre  made  in  calling  the  character  Acker- 
land  inftead  cf  Acres.  Or  perhaps  the  name  maybe  altered  ij? 
the  German  tranllation. — Translator. 


LIFE   OF  KOTZEBUE. 


51 


But  ftill,  in  writing,  my  mind  did  not  emit  one  fpark 
of  originality.  A  romance,  which  I  began  at  Duifburg, 
was  the  exaft  counterpart  of  Sophy's  Journey  from  Memel 
to  Saxony,  No  more  than  four  fteets  of  this  were  ever 
completed.  Two  other  produftions  I  did  finifh,  but 
only  to  receive  two  new  mortifications.  The  firft  was 
a  comedy  called  The  Ring  ;  or  Jvarice  is  the  Root  of  all 
Evil ;  founded,  as  ufual,  upon  an  old  and  worn  out 
ftory.  A  young  woman,  fuppofed  to  be  dead,  was,  by 
defire  of  her  lover,  buried  with  a  valuable  ring  he  had 
prefented  to  her,  upon  her  finger,  which,  in  the  night, 
the  ghoftly  father  comes  to  take  away,  when  fhe  awakes 
to  his  no  fmall  aftonifhment  and  confufion. 

This  piece  I  had  the  alTurance  to  fend  to  Schroeder, 
who  returned  it  with  a  very  polite  letter  of  rejedion, 
which  I  received  even  at  the  moment  that  I  was  medita- 
ting in  triumphant  exultation  on  the  vaft  honors  that 
awaited  me  upon  its  performance.  I  railed  unmercifully 
at  Schroeder  for  not  underftanding  his  own  intereil  bet- 
ter ;  and,  in  the  warmth  of  ray  indignation,  quarrelled 
with  the  ungrateful  dramatic  mufe,  whom  I  refolved  to 
forfwear  for  ever.  To  confole  myfelf,  I  immediately 
wrote  a  romance  of  eight  or  ten  (heets,  which,  in  my 
own  opinion,  was  no  way  inferior  to  Werther.  The 
ftory  was,  indeed  much  more  horrible,  fince  the  hero 
threw  himfelf  from  a  rock,  and  was  dafhed  in  pieces. 

Weigand,  at  Leipfick  was  at  that  time  principal  ac 
coucheur  to  ail  the  fafhionable  romances,  and  to  him 
therefore  was  my  offspring  fent  for  his  decifion  upon  its 
merits.    Fop  fome  time  I  haftened  anxioufly  twice  in 


52 


LIFE  OF  KOTZEBUE. 


-the  week  to  the  Porft,  in  hopes  of  receiving  tidings  of 
my  darling.  At  lail  came  a  letter,  and  a  letter  only, 
by  which  it  was  plain  that  my  manufcript  was  not  re- 
turned, and  I  inftantly  concluded  for  certain,  that  it 
was  already  configned  to  the  prefs.  Think,  then,  with 
what  humiliation  and  confufion,  on  opening  the  letter, 
T  rccid  that  Mr.  Weigand  was  amply  fiipplied  with  fnch 
articles  for  fevcral  fairs  to  come,  and  that  my  manufcript 
iliGuld  be  at  my  fervice  whenever  I  would  have  the  good- 
neis  to  pay  the  pollage. 

This  latter  claufe  was  added,  becaufe,  in  full  confi- 
dence of  the  value  of  my  merchandize,  I  had  fent  the 
parcel  unfranked,  meaning  the  carriage  to  be  dedu<5led 
from  the  profits  of  the  work.  He  doubtlefs  fuppofed 
that  here  he  had  me  fecure,  and  that  from  paternal  affec- 
tion I  fiiould  readily  pay  whatever  was  neceffary  for  the 
releafeof  mychild.  But  he  was  terribly miftaken.  What? 
fnould  my  hero  not  merely  throw  himfelf  from  a  rock 
for  nothing,  but  muft  I  even  pay  for  it  ? — No  :  this 
was  too  much  ! — this  was  a  humiliation  not  to  be  en- 
dured ! 

I  cannot  deny,  but  that  I  had  been  very  glad  to  have 
my  manufcript  again  in  my  own  poffeflion,  fince  I  had 
no  other  copy  of  it.  Like  a  true  genius,  I  had  fent  it 
to  feek  its  fortune  as  it  was  firft  written  off,  ^vithout  a 
corredion  or  emendation  ;  for  I  thought  the  pubhc  fuf- 
'ficiently  honored  by  receiving  any  thing  from  my  pen, 
no  matter  how  hurried  or  incorred  the  produdion — a 
fpeciesof  arrogance  and  impertinence  to  which  puerile  au- 
thors are  too  much  addided.  But'tiswellknown,that  we 


LIFE   OF  KOTZEBUE. 


53 


fons  of  the  mufes  are  feldom  overftocked  with  money  ; 
and,  added  therefore  to  my  indignant  feelings  on  the  fub- 
jeft,  I  thought  it  more  prudent,  with  regard  to  my  pocket, 
to  leave  the  precious  treafure  in  pawn,  andthere,  perhaps, 
it  h"es  at  t'lis  moiiient,  unlefs  Mr.  Weigand,  to  indemnify 
himfelf  as  far  as  poflible  for  the  poftage,  may  have  fold  it 
to  the  paury-cook  for  baking  tarts.  If  fuch  has  been  its 
fate,  I  can  only  regret  that  I  have  not  partaken  of  the 
tarts  myfelf. 

In  the  year  1 779,  I  returned  to  Jena,  and  applied 
myfelf  with  tolerable  diligence  to  ftudying  the  law.  The 

old  H  ,  who  entertained  his  audience  with  ribaldry ; 

tlie  dry  S  ,  who  never  in  his  life  produced  but  two 

jokes,  which  he  was  continually  repeating,  and  at 
which  nobody  laughed  but  himfelf ;  the  profing  tallelefa 

W  ;  and  the  worthy,  but  uncouth,  Sch  ,  were 

my  preceptors.  I  attended  lectures  on  hiftory  fropi 
Mliller,  who  could  not  utter  a  period  without  introduc- 
ing the  words  here  and  there.,  no  matter  whether  tliey 
had  any  bufmefs  there  or  not.  Logic  and  metaphyfics  I 
ftudled  with  Counfellor  Ulric,*  who  had  then  no  com- 
petitor in  this  department ;  and  I  continued  to  improve 
myfelf  in  languages  under  Boulet  and  Valenti.  My  leif- 
ure  hours  were  devoted  heart  and  foul  to  the  private 
theatre. 

About  that  time,  I  produced  a  tragedy,  called  Char" 
Jotte  Franhy  which,  miferable  as  it  was,  would  probably 

*  This  does  not  mean  a  Counfellor,  according  to  the  idea  of  the 
word  in  England,  but  an  Aulic  Counfellor,  a  mere  title  of  honor 
conferred  very  laviihly  in  Germany,  Translator. 
E  2 


54 


LIFE   OF  KOTZEBUEv 


in  thefe  days  have  drawn  upon  me  the  honor  of  perfecii- 
tion.  The  ftory  was  of  a  Prince,  who,  in  hunting, 
accidentally  faw  the  daughter  of  a  country  clergyman, 
and  inftantly  fell  in  love  with  her.  He  contnved  to 
carry  her  off ;  but  (he  being  alfo  beloved  by  another 
young  man  of  a  fiery  and  impetuous  difpofition,  the 
Prince  was  ultimately  (hot  by  the  defpairing  lover.  Oiie 
of  the  charaders  was  a  fort  of  a  Marinelli,  a  hanger-on 
of  the  Prince's,  and  in  coftume  a  very  miferable  copy 
of  a  captain  of  huffars.  The  country -clergyman  was 
a  no  lefs  miferable  imitation  of  Odoardo. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  I  fucceeded  in  perfuading  cur 
company  to  perform  my  drama,  and  W olf,  the  deceafed 
chapel-mafter,  was  fo  obliging  as  to  cor.ipofe  a  very  line 
Adagio  for  it.  This  was  played  while  the  hero  of  the 
piece  was  at  his  prayers,  and  was  by  far  the  bell  thing 
in  the  whole  performance.  I  myfclf  perfonated  the 
prince ;  but  alas !  when  at  laft  I  ought  to  have 
been  fhot,  the  piflol  miffed  fire.  Againft  this 
emergency,  however,  my  murderer  was  prepared,  as  he 
had  armed  himfelf  alfo  with  a  dagger  j  but  I  was  fo  eager 
to  die,  that  I  fell  at  the  fight  of  the  piftol  before  I  had 
time  to  perceive  the  difafler.  The  hero,  however,  threv/ 
himfelf  upon  my  prematurely  dead  body,  and  equally 
refolved  to  kill  as  I  was  to  die,  gave  me  fevjral  defperatc 
llabs  with  the  dagger.  The  curtain  dropped,  and  the 
audience  were  very  fparing  of  their  applaufe. 

Soon  after,  I  ventured  upon  a  comedy,  which  I  call- 
ed Wives  a-Ia-mode,  This  fucceeded  much  better  -han 
my  tragedy  5  and  if  I  am  not  miilakenj  contained  fome 


LIFE   OF  KOTZEBUE. 


55 


ftrokes  of  genuine  comic  humour.  Several  anecdotes 
of  the  town  were  covertly  interfperfed  in  it,  and  thefe 
obtained  the  piece  more  applaufe  than  perhaps  it  de- 
ferved. 

This  fuccefs  was  but  too  grateful  to  farcaftic  youth, 
and  fatally  contributed  towards  confirming  me  in  an  un- 
fortunate propenfity  I  alv/ays  had  to  fatire.  I  have  rare- 
ly, however,  fufFered  myfelf  to  indulge  in  this  fpecies  of 
writing  ;  and  I  can  truly  fay,  that  when  I  have,  it  has 
never  been  to  gratify  fpleen  or  ill-nature.  Yet,  fince  I 
arrived  at  years  of  maturity,  it  has  been  the  caufe  of  em- 
bittering many  hours  of  my  life.  Satire  is  like  the  fling 
of  a  bee  ;  the  ftinger  thinks  no  m.ore  of  it  after  it  be  paftj 
but  he  leaves  his  weapon  behind,  which  rankles  proba- 
bly for  ever  within  the  breaft  of  the  wounded  perfon. 

Take  warning  then  from  me,  ye  who  are  entering  on 
the  career  of  authorfhip,  and  fhun  this  dangerous 
path.  A  malicious  audience,  it  is  true,  will  fmile  upon 
you  on  all  fides,  while  perhaps,  at  the  fame  moment, 
they  are  aiming  the  heavieft  llrokes  againft  you  in  fecret. 
And  fhould  this  fltetch  have  the  happy  effect  of  deterring 
but  one  perfon  from  falling  into  fo  delufive  a  fnare,  I  am 
content — my  trouble  is  amply  repaid. 

I  mufl  not  here  omit  mentioning  a  poetical  club,  infti- 
tuted  by  myfelf  and  fome  of  my  friends  ;  from  which, 
befides  its  affording  us  many  very  pleafant  hours,  we  de- 
rived much  real  advantage.  We  met  occafionally  to 
read  together  little  pieces  of  our  own  production.  Thefe 
were  afterwards  fent  round  to  all  the  members  for  their 
feveral  remarks,  which  were  difcuffed  at  the  next  meet- 


56 


LIFE   OF  ICOTZEi^tJE. 


ing.  After  fome  time,  our  inftitution  received  a  very 
great  acceffion  from  the  Aulic  Counfellor  Schutz  being 
prevailed  upon  to  become  our  Prefident.  It  may  eafily 
be  fuppofed,  how  much  the  confcioufnefs  that  our  works 
were  to  pafs  under  the  infpeftion  of  fo  excellent  a  judge, 
ftimulated  cur  zeal.  He  was  extremely  candid  to  our 
defe<5i:s,  and  fet  an  example  as  a  critic,  which,  forry  am 
I  to  fay,  the  critical  corps,  at  whofe  head  he  now  {lands, 
have  not  thought  proper  to  follow. 

In  my  eighteenth  year,  I  was  admitted  a  member  of 
the  German  Society  at  Jena,  which  I  then  confidered  as 
a  very  high  honor — an  error  I  have  long  fmce  retraced. 
Of  the  eflays  read  in  that  affcmbly,  I  recoUeft  only 
one,  which  contained  an  elaborate  defence  of  the  Empe- 
ror Julian.  But  I  remember  alfo,  that  even  in  thofe 
days  the  lilly  tales  invented  by  various  fe£ls  of  religionifts 
and  the  blood-thirfly  rancour  with  which  they  perfeci> 
ted  each  other,  excited  m.y  utmolt  abhorrence. 

Some  months  fpent  very  pleafantly  during  the  fum- 
mer,  in  frequent  vifits  to  the  garden  of  Clippftein,  gave 
cxillence  to  a  fniall  coHeftion  of  poems,  which,  by  means 

of  my  friend  Mufaeus,  were  printed  by  W  ,  at  E  . 

I  cautioufly  avoid  mentioning  either  the  title  of  the 
colleftion,  or  the  name  of  the  publiflier,  fmce  the  curi- 
olity  of  fome  readers  might  be  fiifficiently  awakened  to 
induce  a  wifti  of  bringing  the  babe  once  more  into  hght, 
by  which  I  am  confcious  that  I  fhould  be  no  gainer.  At 
that  time,  however,  the  publication  gave  me  inexpreflible 
fati&fa6lion,  and  I  eagerly  fearched  every  catalogue  that 


LIFE  O?  KOTZEBUE. 


57 


fell  into  my  hands,  in  hopes  of  finding  my  beloved  vo- 
lume among  the  lift. 

Whence  comes  it  that  we  feel  fuch  exquifite  fenfation^ 
of  delight  on  our  admiffion  into  the  fan8um  fan^orum 
of  authorfhip  ?  By  what  claim  does  the  young  author 
regard  his  flrft  publication  as  a  credential  to  the  public  ? 
Does  he  confider  the  art  of  embodying  the  efiufions 
of  his  imagination  fo  as  to  render  them  vifible  to 
others,  in  the  light  o{ acquired  merit  ?  Does  he  forget,  that 
poets,  equally  with  mechanics,  have  been  born  beneath 
a  roof  of  ftraw  ?  That  the  organization  of  the  frame, 
and  the  irritabihty  of  the  nerves,  or  the  adlivity  of  their 
juices,  if  juices  they  have,  conftitute  the  wonderful  vari- 
ety we  behold  in  mental  propenfities,  or  what  is  com- 
monly called  talent ;  confequently,  that  the  art  of  writ- 
ing poetry  can  be  as  little  efteemed  a  merit  of  his  own 
acquifition  as  corporeal  ftrength  or  beauty  ? 

In  order  to  give  a  public  proof  that  I  was  not  trifling 
away  my  tim.e  folely  with  the  belles-lettres,  I  clofed  my 
academical  career  at  Jena,  in  my  nineteenth  year,  with 
taking  the  character  of  an  opponent  at  a  doctor's  de- 
gree. Soon  after,  I  returned  to  Weimar,  where  I  ftu- 
died  the  Pandefts  with  extreme  diligence,  was  examin- 
ed by  the  principals  in  the  law,  and  admitted  as  an  ad- 
vocate. Here,  while  I  was  waiting  for  clients,  I  cou- 
tinued  to  be  myfelf  a  zealous  chent  of  the  Mufes. 

Two  or  three  years  before,  a  fatirical  ballad  had  ef- 
caped  my  pen,  refle6ling,  perhaps  unjullifiably,  upon 
the  fair  of  Weimar.  To  atone  for  this  tranfgreflion 
was  now  my  firft  object,  and  I  fung  their  beauties,  and 


58 


LIFE  OF  KOTZEEQK. 


their  virtues,  in  fuch  elaborate  ftrains  as  I  hoped  would 
entirely  efface  all  unpleafant  recolledlions.  My  offence 
originated  in  the  following  circumftance. 

A  figure  dancer  had  been  exhibiting  his  feats  at  Wei- 
mar, who  had  a  fingular  art  of  difplaying  his  fine  Her- 
culean form  to  the  utmofl  pofTible  advantage,  by  the 
great  variety  of  his  attitudes,  and  the  graceful  movements 
of  his  body.  Scandal  foon  began  to  be  bufy  in  buzzing 
about  the  town,  a  report  that  he  Iiad  made  a  deep  im- 
prefTion  on  the  hearts  of  many  of  our  ladies.  This  ru- 
mour reaching  my  ears,  a  thought  ftruck  me  to  make 
the  flory,  no  matter  whether  true  or  falfe,  the  fubjedt 
of  a  ridiculous  parody  on  Biirger's  ballad  of  the  Women 
of  Weinjberg ;  and  I  muft  own,  that  after  a  lapfe  of 
fixteen  years,  I  flill  confider  it  as  one  of  the  beft  pieces 
of  humour  I  ever  produced.  But  in  proportion  to  its 
merit  was  its  offence  ;  and  the  more  credit  it  gained,  fo 
much  more  did  it  draw  upon  me  the  heavy  indignation 

of  every  female  in  the  town.    A  certain  Mr.  B  , 

who  paffed  for  a  good  poet,  and  valued  himfelf  not  a 
little  upon  his  poetical  talents,  took  upon  himfelf  to  be 
the  ladies  champion,  and  did  me  the  honor  of  making 
me  the  fubjeft  of  another  ballad,  in  which  I  was  pretty 
feverely  handled  :  a  very  proper  chaftifement  for  calling 
reflexions  upon  the  whole  fex,  when  perhaps  not  one 
deferved  cenfure,  or  even  ridicule.* 

*  Though  the  ftory  of  the  JVo7nen  of  IVehfbetj  is  well  known, 
it  may  not,  perhaps,  be  unacceptable  to  the  reader,  to  be  pre- 
fented  with  Burger's  ballad  upon  the  fubjed.  It  were  to  be 
wiilicd,  that  Kotzebue's  parody  could  alfo  be  fubjoir.ed. 


LIFE   OF  KOTZEBUE. 


59 


The  fummer  after  my  return  from  Jena,  was  one  of 
the  happieft  periods  of  my  Hfe,  fince  I  then  firft  en- 
joyed the  entire  and  confidential  friendfhip  of  the  admi- 
rable Mufseus,    I  have  already  related,  in  my  (ketch  of 


And  tell  me,  then,  where  Weinfoerg  lies, 

It  muft  be  a  bonny  place, 
For  the  wives  and  maids  once  faved  the  town, 
When  the  town  was  iu  piteous  cafe. 
And  ftiould  I  e'er  be  minded  to  woo. 
To  Weinfberg  I  a  wooing  would  go. 

The  Emperor  Conrad  once,  we're  told, 

Had  ta'en  umbrage  with  the  town. 
And  with  horfe  and  foot,  all  clad  in  fteel, 
In  terrible  force  came  down. 
With  foot  and  horfe  furrounded  the  walls. 
And  battered  them  forely  with  bombs  and  balls. 

And  when,  in  fpite  of  his  fierce  alTail, 

The  people  withftood  his  aim  ; 
While  his  bofom  with  direft  fury  burn'd, 
He  bade  his  herald  proclaim, 
That  when  the  ill-fated  town  fnould  fall, 
The  fword  fliould  extirpate  one  and  all. 
'Twas  fad  to  lift  to  his  threat'ning  dire 

Proclaim'd  by  the  trumpet's  found, 
Aud  difmal  ftirieks  and  groans  were  heard 
In  the  houfes  and  ftreets  around. 
For  fcanty  was  now  become  their  fare. 
And  counfel,  alas !  was  ftill  more  rare. 

Oh  woe  !  oh  woe  !  on  our  haplefs  town  ! 

On  us  is  deep  fcath  and  woe  ! 
And  they  fang  their  Kyrie  £l/fon, 
To  dellru(5lion,  alas  !  we  go  ! 
Oh  woe  !  oh  woe  !  on  our  haplefs  town  ! 
For  foon  its  walls  muft  be  batter'd  down 
But  when  man's  refources  all  are  gone. 

When  his  plans  and  fchemes  have  fail'd 
To  refcue  his  life  he  oft  h^s  found, 
Have  female  fancies  avaii'd. 
For  priefts  arid  women,  wh  re'erwe  go, 
Ars  far  the  wiiieft  things  we  kno-w. 


60 


LIFE  OF  KOTZEBUE. 


this  worthy  man's  life,  that  we  ufed  to  meet  daily  in 
his  garden.  We  wrote  together  at  the  fame  table,  ufmg 
the  fame  ink-glafs,  and  even  now  I  feem  to  behold  the 
pleafant  and  good-natured  fmile  that  illumined  his  counr 


A  maiden  betroth'd  but  yefterday. 

Did  her  neighbors  around  her  call, 
And  hinted  a  plan  to  fave  the  town, 
Which  ftraight  was  follow'd  by  all. 
And  Lobefan  was  the  maiden's  name, 
As  high  it  ftands  recorded  by  fame. 

Then  at  midnight's  ftill  and  folemn  hour, 

When  the  earth  was  moifl  with  dew. 
The  wives  and  maids  repaired  to  the  camp, 
For  pardon  and  grace  to  fue. 
And  they  knelt  before  the  Emperor's  feet, 
And  they  begged  fo  foft,  and  begged  fo  fweet, 

Till  leave  they  gain'd  at  the  morning's  dawn, 

With  their  treafures  to  quit  the  place; 
But  all  that  then  remained  in  the  town 
Should  the  fire  and  fword  erafe. 
And  fmce  no  more  their  pray'rs  could  obtain, 
"^fheyJjackward  hied  to  their  home  again. 

But  lo !  when  the  dav/n  next  morning's  broke, 

'Twas  a  glorious  fight  to  fee  ! 
The  wives  and  the  maidens  all  came  forth, 
Each  tott'ring  with  bended  knee, 
Not  beneath  the  weight  of  bag  or  fack. 
But  of  hufbands  and  brothers  all  pick-a-back. 

And  now  enrag'd,  the  courtiers  fought 

Their  devices  to  rounteradl ; 
But  an  Emperpr,  mighty  Conrad,  fpake, 
His  word  muft  never  retradl, 
And  bravo !  bravo  !  the  monarch  he  cried, 
May  all  our  women  ad  thus  when  tried. 

The  town  he  pardon'd,  and  gave  a  feaft, 

Such  noble  deeds  to  repay, 
And  there  was  trumpet  and  kettle-drum^ 
And  finging  and  dancing  gay. 
He  gave  a  feaft,  the  women  to  pleafe, 
And  all  were  invited  of  all  degrees. 


LIFE  CF 


KOTZEBUE. 


61 


tenance,  the  animation  that  beamed  from  his  eyes,  whea 
he  was  about  to  commit  to  writing  fome  humorous  idea 
that  had  ftruck  his  fancy.  He  generally  read  over  to 
me  in  the  evening  what  he  had  written  in  the  courfe  of 
the  day,  though  fometimes  this  entertainment  was  de- 
ferred to  the  end  of  the  week.  Was  it  then  furprifmg, 
that  as  I  had  already  endeavored  to  imitate  Wieland  and 
Brandes,  Goethe  and  Hermes,  I  fhould  now  be  ftruck 
with  a  pafiion  for  taking  Mufaeus  as  my  model  ? 

About  that  time,  Wittekind  of  Eifenach  had  formed 
a  plan  for  pubHfhing  a  mifcellaneous  work,  confifting  of 
tales,  poems,  &;c.  which  was  intended  to  be  very  volumi- 
nous, and  to  which  he  had  given  fome  common-place 
title  that  I  have  now  forgotten.  I  was  invited  by  him 
to  become  an  affiftant  in  this  pubhcation  ;  but  to  that 
I  would  not  confent,  unlcfs  I  had  pcrmiffion  to  give  it  a 
more  attractive  name.  The  pubHfher  made  no  difficulty 
of  complying  with  my  terms,  and  I  accordingly  baptized 
the  child  by  the  nam.e  of  Ganymede  for  the  Literary 
World.  I  wrote  a  preface  for  the  firft  volume,  and  con- 
tributed towards  it,  /,  a  Hi/lory  in  Fragments,  into  which 
I  endeavoured  to  transfufe  Mufosus's  original  turn  of 
thought  and  ftyle  :  how  well  I  fucceeded  may  eafily  be 
imagined.  This  was  the  firft  and  laft  concern  I  had 
xvlth  Mr.  Wittekind  and  his  work  ;  though,  if  I  am  not 

Ah,  tell  me  tlien  where  Weinfberg  lies, 

It  muft  be  a  bonny  place ; 
For  the  wives  and  maids  once  fav'd  the  town, 
When  the  town  was  in  piteous  cafe. 
And  Ihould  I  e'er  be  minded  to  woo. 
To  "Weiiifoerg  I  a  wooing  wo;;ld  go, 

F 


62 


LIFE   OF  KOTZEBUE. 


miftaken,  it  is  ftill  continued.  By  meeting  with  it 
fometimes  in  looking  over  catalogues,  I  am  reminded 
of  the  fins  of  my  youth. 

My  fecond  produdion  this  fummer  was  a  colle6lion 
of  tales.  Thefe  were  pubhfhed  by  Dyck  at  Leipfick,  and 
were  honoured  with  being  printed  in  a  very  elegant  man- 
ner. He  has  fmce  conferred  another  honour  upon  them 
wholly  unexpefted  by  me,  and  not  quite  fo  fatisfadlory, 
in  republifliing  them  without  my  knowledge  or  confent, 
confiderably  altered  and  enlarged.  A  few  weeks  ago, 
wifhing  to  form  a  complete  collection  of  my  ^vorks,  I 
fent  to  Leipfick,  among  other  things,  for  this  infignifi- 
cant  produftion,  I  opened  it,  and  began  reading  j 
when,  to  my  aftonilhment,  I  found  there  was  a  great 
deal  of  which  I  had  not  the  flightefl  recolleftion.  Icould 
not  imagine  how  it  could  happen,  that  I  had  fo  totally 
forgotten  what  was  written  by  myfclf.  I  read  on  :  but 
my  furprife  only  increafed  ;  for  ftill  what  I  was  reading 
feemed  in  great  meafure  new  to  me,  till  at  length  I 
was  thoroughly  convinced,  that  many  things  were 
introduced  of  which  I  was  not  the  author.  By  degrees, 
memory  aflifted  me  to  feparate  my  own  from  foreign  pro- 
perty ;  and,  at  the  end  of  the  rcti  ofpe6l  I  was  equally 
convinced,  that  not  only  was  I  made  refponfible  for  no 
lefs  than  a  hundred  and  fifty-three  pages,  not  a  word  of 
which  I  had  written,  but  alfo  that  much  really  of  my 
own  compofition  was  omitted. 

Let  me  not  be  fuppofed  thus  publicly  to  notice  this 
circiimftancc,  from  the  filly  vanity  of  confidering  what 
I  did  myfeif  as  of  lo  fiiperior  a  nature,  that  it  mull  necef' 


LIFE  OF  KOTZEBUE. 


63 


farily  be  disfigured  by  thefe  additions  and  alterations. 
I  will  readily  allow,  on  the  contrary,  that  from  the  in- 
feriority of  my  own  part,  it  could  only  be  confidered  as 
a  foil  to  the  reft.    But  in  what  a  light  muft  I  appear  to 
the  writers  of  the  added  pieces,  fhould  my  book  ever 
fall  accidentally  into  their  hands,  and  they  (hould  fee 
their  own  children  fent  into  the  world  under  my  name 
Muft  I  not  be  juftly  confidered  as  the  moft  fhamelefs 
and  contemptible  of  all  plagiarifts,  or  rather  as  a  literary 
impoftor  ?    And  what  befides,  muft  Weiffe,  the  Receiv- 
er of  the  military  contributions,  whom  I  have  not  the 
honor  of  knowing  even  by  fight,  think  of  feeing  a  poem 
addrefled  to  him  with  the  famiharity  of  an  old  acquain- 
tance ? 

Finally,  what  fhall  we  fay  to  the  publifher  himfelf  ? 
In  the  year  1780,  when  this  work  was  firft  printed,  he 
engaged,  in  cafe  of  its  coming  to  a  new  edition,  to  pay 
me  a  fixed  additional  fum  by  the  ftieet  for  revifing 
and  correfting  it ;  yet  he  has  publifhed  this  new  and 
enlarged  edition  even  without  my  knowledge.  The 
whole  tranfadlion  is  every  way  incomprehenfible,  and  is 
perhaps  a  circumftance  that  never  happened  before  to  a  liv- 
ing author.  After  much  refleclion,  I  can  find  one  only 
poftible  folution  of  it.  A  great  part  of  the  original  edi- 
tion of  my  tales,  which  certainly  were  not  of  a  firft  rate 
kind,  might  perhaps  remain  as  ufelefs  lumber  upon  the  pub- 
lifher's  hands,  as  might  alfo  be  the  cafe  with  fome  other 
work  now  confofidated  with  mine.  But  fince  my  name 
has  become  more  known,  and  has  acquired  fome  degree 
of  reputation,  he  thought  the  time  was  arrived  for  indem- 


64 


LIFE  OF  KOTZEBUE. 


nifying  himfelf  for  tliis  double  lofs,  fo,  melting  his  two 
old  ihopkeepers  together,  has  fent  them  out  to  feek  their 
fortune,  as  the  work  of  the  author  now  the  moll  popu- 
lar. As  a  mercantile  fpeculation,  I  muft  own  this  pro- 
cedure to  be  ingcniou?,  but  I  cannot  pofiibly  admire  it 
as  a  matter  of  principle. 

Yet,  in  confideration  of  the  joyous  day  purchafed 
with  the  money  I  received  for  the  firft  pubhcation  of  my 
tales,  I  pardon  the  fubfequent  offence.  It  was  on  my 
mother's  birth-day,  and  to  the  laft  moment  of  my  life 
I  fhall  call  up  the  recoUeftion  with  tranfport.  In  a  gar- 
den decorated  with  garlands  of  flowers,  part  of  which 
were  formed  into  the  initials  of  our  names,  I  furprized 
her  with  a  rural  entertainment.  In  the  preparations 
for  this,  the  good  Mufseus,  who  was  always  eager  to 
promote  fuch  innocent  amufements,  had  bulled  himfelf 
extremely.  A  ftage  was  formed  by  live  hedges,  upon 
which  a  fhort  and  affecling  little  drama  was  performed  by 
lome  children ;  foft  mufic  played  among  the  trees  and 
fiirubs,  and  in  the  evening  the  whole  garden  was  illumi- 
nated with  coloured  lamps.  It  was  the  happieft  day  I 
ever  experienced.  Even  notv,  the  recollection  brings 
tears  into  my  eyes,  fmce  then  I  faw  tears  of  tranfport 
Handing  in  thofe  of  my  mother.  Yes !  Dyck  is  par- 
doned ! 

The  third  child  I  brought  forth  in  Mufaeus's  fummer 
houfe,  was  a  comedy  in  three  ads,  called  The  Triple 
Vonv,  PalTages  and  fmgle  fcenes  were  not  amifs.  It 
was  written  with  the  intention  of  being  played  at  a  pri- 
vate theatre  at  Weimar,  after  the  Duchefs's  delivery, 


LIFE  OF  KOTZEBUE. 


65 


but  unluckily  only  in  cafe  of  her  prefenting  the  world 
with  a  prince  ;  and  as  it  was  her  royal  pleafure  on  this 
occafion  perverfely  to  produce  a  daughter,  the  perform- 
ance fell  to  the  ground,  nor  has  the  pieCe  ever  appeared 
in  print. 

Befides  thefe  produdions,  I  wrote,  about  the  fame 
time,  at  the  requeft  of  a  very  worthy  man  who  honored 
me  with  his  friendfiiip,  fome  criticifms  in  a  literary  pub- 
lication, a  thefe  bore  the  ftamp  of  immature  youth, 
at  leaft  they  were  free  from  any  fymptoms  of  the  fhame- 
lefs  critical  acumen  dealt  out  fo  liberally  by  maturer 
writers  in  the  prefent  days. 

In  the  Autumn  of  1781,  I  went  to  Peterjfburg*. 
The  celebrated  poet  Lenz,  author  of  the  Neiv  Menoza, 
was  my  predecelTor  in  the  office  to  which  I  was  now  ap- 
pointed. He  had  excited  much  diffatisfadtion  in  his 
poft,  fince  inflead  of  attending  regularly  to  the  necelTary 
public  bufmefs,  his  attention  was  frequently  diverted  to 
a  poem  he  was  writing,  for  which  there  was  no  neceflity 
at  all,  I  refolved,  therefore,  to  take  warning  from  his 
example,  and  avoiding  the  rock  upon  which  he  had 

*  It  does  not  direcflly  appear,  either  from  Kotzebue's  own 
writings,  or  elfev/here,  in  what  capacity  he  now  went  to  the 
Ruffian  capital.  He  certainly  was  for  fome  years  Prefident  of 
the  Hi^h  College  of  Juftice  in  the  territory  of  Ehflland,  in  the 
Ruffian  province  of  Livonia;  but  from  what  follows,  it  fhould 
rather  appear,  that  he  did  not  enjoy  this  office  till  he  went  to  re- 
fide  at  Reval;  confequently,  that  his  original  appointment  from 
the  Ruffian  government  was  of  a  different  nature.  Indeed,  he 
mentions  himfelf,  in  a  fubfequent  paffage,  as  being  under  the 
celebrated  General  Bawr,  which  corroborates  the  opinion  that 
be  had  fome  other  poft  before  his  prefidency. 

Translator, 


66 


LIFE  OF  KOTZEBUE. 


fplit,  to  forego  the  Miifes  entirely  ;  but  nahiram  Ji 
furca  expellas.  An  entire  half  year  indeed  elapfed,  in 
which,  adhering  firmly  to  my  refolution,  my  fuperiors 
could  not  entertain  theleaft  fufpicion  that  afpark  of  poet- 
ry illumined  my  breaft,  or  that  my  name  had  ever  appear- 
ed in  the  catalogues  for  Leipfick  fair.  This  referve,  on 
the  fubjedl  of  my  literary  attainments,  originated  in  ob- 
fervations  I  had  myfelf  made  ;  by  which  I  was  convinced 
that  in  the  vv'orld  at  large,  a  being  who  underilands  noth- 
ing but  how  to  make  rhymes,  is  confidered,  and  per- 
haps juftly,  as  of  very  little  account. 

An  accidental  occurrence,  however,  once  mOre  irre- 
iiftibly  drew  forth  my  vanity  from  under  the  charitable 
controul  of  reafon.  The  great  and  excellent  engineer, 
General  Bawr,  paffing  through  Riga,  met  by  chance 
^yith  the  celle(^lion  of  tales  already  noticed.  The  name 
caught  his  immediate  attention  he  ftarted,  and  en- 
quiring particulars  refpecJting  the  author,  learned  to  his 
no  fmall  furprize,  that  it  was  the  fame  Kotzebue  who 
then  laboured  under  him  at  a  very  different  fpecies  of 
employment.  He  purchafed  the  book,  brought  it 
back  with  him  to  Petcrlburgh,  and  one  day  at  a  table 
produced  it  unexpectedly.  The  colour  that  inftantly 
rofe  in  my  face  betrayed  me,  and  the  applaufe  I  received 
on  this  occafion,  blew  the  embers,  ftill  fmothering  in  my 
boforn,  again  into  a  blaze. 

By  degrees  I  refumed  the  delightful  occuj)ation  of  de- 
voting my  leifure-hours,  which  indeed  were  but  fcAv,  .to 
Tr-y  old  literary  purfuits.    A  German  theatre  had  been 


LIFE  OF  KOTZEBUE. 


67 


for  fome  little  time  eftablidied  at  Peterfburg,  but  on  a 
very  indifferent  footing.  A  lady,  of  the  name  of  Tel- 
ler, was  the  only  one  among  the  performers  who  pcfTcfs- 
rd  any  real  talents  for  the  ftage.  The  nerTt  in  rank  to 
her  for  ability,  was  Fiala,  a  fpecimen  fulEcient  to  give 
an  idea  of  their  general  mediocrity.  The  receipts  of 
the  houfe  were  very  fmall,  and  the  whole  inilitution  was 
on  the  point  of  failing  to  the  ground,  when  the  in- 
triguing Fiala  applied  to  General  Bawr,  intreating  him 
as  a  German,  to  take  it  under  his  protection,  and  to 
ufe  his  influence  with  the  Tzarina  for  procuring  its  en- 
rollment among  her  Imperial  theatres.  This  was  ac- 
cordingly done,  Bawr  undertook  the  direftion  himfelf, 
and  from  that  moment  I  was  rellorcd  to  my  own  ele- 
ment. 

I  wrote  a  tragedy,  in  five  aila,  called  Demetrius  Tzar 
of  Mofco'w,  taken  from  the  well-known  ftory  of  tiie  true 
or  falfe  Demetrius,  who,  according  to  report,  was  mur- 
dered as  a  child  at  Ugiitfcli,  but  who  afterwards  ap- 
peared fupported  by  the  Poles,  and  dethroned  the  trai- 
tor Boris  Godunow.  The  world  needs  not  now  to  be 
informed,  that  the  belt  hiftorians  are  divided  upon  the 
queilion  whether  or  not  this  Demetrius  was  an  impoftor  I 
A  llrong  prejudice  was  at  leaft  awakened  in  his  favour, 
from  the  woman  who  was  undoubted  mother  to  the  child 
fuppofed  to  have  been  murdered,  burfting  into  an  agony 
of  tears,  in  the  midft  of  a  numerous  affembly  of  the  peo- 
ple, at  beholding  the  adventurer,  as  he  was  called,  and 
with  thewildeil  elTufions  of  joy  acknowledging  hkn 


68 


LIFE   OF  KOTZEBUE. 


Iier  fon.  It  is  however,  alas !  but  too  certain,  that  po- 
licy has  often  engaged  even  maternal  tendernefs  in  its  in- 
terefl:,  and  thofe  tears  might  not  improbably  be  artifi- 
cially fhed  by  Maria  Feodorowna,  from  hatred  to  the 
ufurpcr,  and  a  defire  of  revenging  lierfelf  by  contribut- 
ing in  any  way  to  his  downfall.  Be  this  as  it  may,  I 
did  not  like,  in  my  capacity  of  tragedian,  to  produce  an 
impoftor  as  the  hero  of  my  piece,  and  accordingly  I  fup- 
ported  his  being  really  the  dethroned  Prince. 

"When  my  drama  was  completed,  1  read  it  to  a  fmall 
but  chofen  circle.  The  then  Pruflian  AmbafTador  at 
the  Ruffian  court,  and  the  Prefident  of  the  Academy  of 
Arts  and  Sciences  at  Peterfburgh,  men  of  acknowledg- 
ed and  diftinguiflied  talle  in  literature,  were  among  my 
audience.  The  piece  was  approved,  probably  more 
from  the  indulgence  of  my  hearers  than  from  its  own 
merit.  Such,  at  kalt,  is  the  impreflion  I  now  have  upon 
the  fubjeft,  as  I  fiiould  by  no  means  venture  to  bring  it 
upon  the  ftage.  General  Bawr  ordered  it  to  be  imme- 
diately performed,  and  very  fplendid  drelTes  and  decora- 
tions, after  the  old  Ruffian  coftume,  were  prepared  for 
it. 

As  the  Tzarina  had  configned  the  entire  manage- 
ment of  the  theatre  to  Bawr,  he  thought  his  own  fiat 
fufficient,  and  that  it  was  unneceffary  to  lay  the  manu- 
fcript  before  the  theatrical  cenfor.  But  this  piece  of 
negligence  nearly  proved  the  overthrow  of  all  my  tranf- 
ports.  As  the  intended  day  of  reprefentation  approach- 
ed, and  had  been  announced  in  the  puUic  prints,  the 


tIfE   OF  KOTZEBUEi 


Governor  of  the  I^clice  fent  one  morning  to  the  theatre, 
prohibiting  the  performance.  Fiala,  thunderftruck, 
haftened  to  General  Bawr,  and  the  General  to  the  Go- 
vernor, to  alTure  him  that  my  tragedy  was  perfectly 
cirenfive.  But  this  fignined  little.  It  appeared,  that 
Peter  the  Great  had  iffued  an  Ukafe,  exprefsly  declar- 
ing Demetrius  an  impoftor  ;  and  this  being  ftill  in  force, 
was  more  inconteftible  evidenae  againft  him,  than  the 
tears  of  his  mother  were  in  his  favour.  In  vain  did  I  urge, 
that  I  was  wholly  ignorant  of  the  exiflence  of  fuch  an 
Ukafe  :  it  was  ftill  afked  how  I  dared,  in  the  very  face 
of  an  Imperial  decree,  to  prefent  my  hero  to  the  public 

under  the  title  of  Tzar  of  Mofcow« 

Ik 

Efteem  and  confideration  for  General  Bawr,  however, 
nt  length  removed  even  this  difficulty,  and  the  Govern- 
or of  the  Police  confented  to  the  reprefentation  of  m.y 
play,  yet  not  without  previoufly  fending  an  officer  to 
me  with  an  injun<5lion  to  make  fuch  alterations,  as  that 
Demetrius  fhould  be  pubhcly  unmafl<;ed,  and  difplayed 
before  all  the  people  in  his  true  charafter  of  an  impoftor. 
Mortified  to  the  laft  degree  at  the  idea  of  thus  mutilat- 
ing my  offspring,  I  reprefented  to  the  officer  that  the 
piece  might  as  well  be  thrown  at  once  into  the  fire  ; 
but  my  remonftrances  were  of  no  avail,  he  refoluteiy 
infifted  that  this  trifling  alteration  fhould  be  made.  My 
only  refource  was  in  another  application  to  the  General, 
vvho  once  more  ftood  my  friend,  and  finally  procured  a 
compromiie  of  the  matter.  The  performance  of  the 
piece,  as  I  had  written  it,  was  permitted,  on  condition 


^70 


LIFE  OF  KOTZEBUe. 


of  my  making,  in  my  own  perfon,  a  folemn  decIaratioiS 
that  I  was  firmly  convinced  of  Demetrius's  impofture, 
and  in  reprefenting  the  matter  otherwife  in  my  play^  had 
only  been  guilty  of  a  poetical  licence. 

All  obftacles  being  thus  at  laft  removed,  my  unfor- 
tunate tragedy  was  performed  before  a  numerous  audi- 
ence, whofe  curiofity  was  confiderably  increafed  by  fo 
many  demurs.  It  was  received  with  an  applaufe  to 
which-the  forbearance  generally  praftifed  towards  youth 
could  alone  give  me  any  pretenlion. 

Soon  after  I  wrote  a  comedy,  The  Nun  and  the  Cham- 
hermaid,  that  proved  extremely  fuccefsful,  though  from 
a  very  different  caufe.  The  abolition  of  Convents,  in 
which  Jofeph  the  Second  was  then  deeply  engaged,  and 
the  blockade  of  the  Dutch  fleet  in  the  Texel  by  an  En- 
glifh  fquadron,  furnifhed  materials  for  the  plot,  and  much 
as  thefe  events  attracted  the  public  attention,  a  piece 
founded  on  them  could  fcarcely  fail  to  pleafe.  Added  to 
this,  it  was  beyond  all  comparifon  better  played  than 
DemetriuSi 

A  fhort  time  before,  fome  author  from  Vienna,  I 
know  not  his  name,  had  written  a  comedy,  which  had 
the  good  fortune  to  pleafe  the  Tzarina,  and  fhe  teftified 
her  approbation  by  making  him  a  handfome  prefent.  I 
therefore  expelled  that  Count  Cobentzel,  the  Imperial 
AmbafTador  at  Peterfburgh,  would  have  taken  this  op- 
portunity of  returning  her  Majefty's  compliment,  nor 
did  the  idea  originate  folely  in  my  own  filly  vanity,  fince 
he  had  expreffed  a  wifh  to  be  allowed  a  copy  for  the 


LIFE   OF  KOTZEBUE. 


71 


theatre  at  Vienna.  This  requeft  I  thought  would  not 
admit  of  any  other  conftrudlion  than  fuch  an  intended 
compliment,  as  the  innate  worth  of  the  thing  would  by- 
no  means  authorife  it,  and  I  therefore  eagerly  put  into 
his  hands  the  only  copy  I  had  referred  for  myfelf.  But 
never  to  this  moment  have  I  heard  another  word  upon 
the  fubjed.  Perhaps  my  patron's  death,  which  hap- 
pened Ihortly  after,  was  the  principal  caufe  of  thi§ 
filence,  fince  now  the  fame  publicity  could  not  have  at- 
tended any  a6l  of  munificence  fiiewn  upon  the  occafion. 
In  fhort  one  copy  of  my  play  was  thus  loft,  and  the 
prompter  foon  after  running  away  with  that  belonging 
to  the  theatre,  I  wa«  wholly  and  entirely  deprived  of  the 
babe.  This  was  undoubtedly  a  matter  of  fmall  impor- 
tance, and  I  only  mention  it  left  the  mannfcript  ftiould 
fall  into  the  hands  of  any  of  our  gain-thirfty  bookfellers, 
who  might,  unlefs  warned  againft  it,  confign  it  v/ithout 
mercy  to  the  prefs.  Should  fuch  be  the  cafe,  I  here 
enter  my  folem.n  proteft  againft  its  pubhcation. 

I  now  engaged  in  an  undertaking  which  proved  of 
confiderabie  utility,  though  attended  with  little  trouble. 
Among  the  vaft  throng  of  periodical  works  that  inun- 
date Germany,  a  "Very  fmall  number  then  made  their 
way  to  Peterlburgh,  and  even  they  were  little  read  ;  in- 
deed, to  own  the  truth,  a  few  numbers  excepted^  they 
contained  httle  worth  attention.  What  things  did  me- 
rit perufal  I  therefore  fele6led,  and  printed  them  month- 
ly in  a  good  fized  pamphlet.  Several  volumes  of  this 
"ork,  which,  after  my  departuie,  was  continued  by 


'12 


LIFE   OF  KOTZEBLTE. 


another  editor,  and  been  favourably  received  at  Peterf- 
burgh,  as  well  as  in  fome  of  the  provinces.  In  this 
work,  befides  feveral  unpublifiied  efiays  cf  my  own,  I 
inferted  fome  fpecimens  of  The  Siiff'er'mgs  of  the  Family 
of  Ortenlerg,  a  romance  on  which  I  was  then  employ- 
ed. 

In  the  year  1782,  fome  of  my  friends  who  had  influ- 
ence at  court,  had  fixed  their  minds  on  eftablifhing  me 
in  a  poft  to  which  they  thought  it  would  prove  a  ftrong 
recommendation  in  my  favor,  were  I  to  write  a  volume 
of  moral  tales  and  fables  for  young  princes,  and  dedicate 
it  to  the  Grand  Duke's  Son.  Never  having  felt  within 
myfeif  any  propenfity  to  this  fpecies^of  poetry,  I  hefi- 
tated  much  about  fuch  an  undertaking,  but  fmce  it  was 
to  ferve  as  a  vehicle  for  future  promotion,  I  at  length 
refolved  to  make  the  experiment. 

I  immediately  mentioned  the  idea  to  my  publifher  at 
Peterfburgh,  a  worthy  man,  but  who  not  being  a  perfon 
of  great  talents  himfelf,  regarded  what  little  I  pofTefied 
with  a  degree  of  enthufiafm.  He  engaged,  without 
a  moment's  htfitation,  not  only  to  take  my  fables,  but 
to  pubhfli  thera  in  a  very  fplendid  manner,  and  had 
fcarcely  patienc,e  to  wait  for  beginning  to  print,  till  \ 
had  properly  correcled  the  firft  flieets.  He  came  to  me 
daily,  and  at  laft  almoft  feized  upon  the  copy,  r.nd  ftnt 
it  off  to  the  prefs.  The  fables  were  printed  on  the  fm- 
cft  vellum  paper,  with  a  copper-plate  to  each,  even  tho' 
it  did  not  extend  beyond  one  oftavo  page.  Four  flieets 
were  thus  finiilied  off  in  the  greateft  hafle?  when  hf 


LIFE   OF  KOTZEBTE. 


73 


brought  them  to  me  with  an  air  of  extreme  exultation  ; 
and  indeed  as  to  what  concerned  outward  fiiew  he  had 
feme  reafon  to  exult. 

But  how  mi^ch  was  I  fhocked,  when  on  carefully  ex- 
amining their  intrinfic  worth,  led  perhaps  to  invefxi^ate 
this  the  more  minutely  from  the  fplendor  of  their  exter- 
nal appearance,  I  could  not  but  be  fenfible  that  not  one 
rofe  above  m.ediocrity  !  I  became  immediately  convm- 
ced  that  I  had  no  talent  for  this  fpccies  of  writing,  and 
I  therefore  refolved  not  to  profecute  a  plan  by  which  I 
lliould  only  expofe  myfelf ;  fo,  paying  the  publifher  all 
that  he  had  lavilhed  in  thefe  expenfive  decorations,  the 
work  was  configned  to  eternal  oblivion. 

Oh  ye  !  who  have  fo  often  and  fo  bitterly  reproached 
me  with  vanity,  now  behold  I  give  you  the  lie.  The 
re-purchafe  of  my  fables  coH  me  many  hundred  roubles, 
but  my  felf-Iove  never  breathed  a  firsgle  figh  over  their 
deftrudlion. 

I  come  now  to  the  period  of  my  life  that  I  paffed  at 
R-eval.  During  the  firil  fummer  of  m^y  refidence  there, 
I  fpent  the  greateil  part  of  every  day  in  the  delicious 
fnady  walks  belonging  to  the  caftle  of  Catherinenthal, 
and  read  more  than  I  wrote.  In  the  autumn  I  vifited 
for  the  firil  time  the  difmdRand  dreary  environs  of  Kei- 
kel,  abounding  with  forefts  and  moraffes.  Yet,  through 
the  enchanting  fmiles  of  affe^tioii,  and  the  genial  warmth 
of  friendfhip,  even  this  miferable  country  was  transform- 
ed into  a  paradife. 

Ye  worthy  !  ye  excellent  people,  among  whom  I  then 
lived  !  in  your  circle  I  learned  that  mortal  man  mav  be 
G 


71 


LIFE   OF  KOTZEBUE. 


far  happier  in  fuch  a  fpot,  though  fiirroiinded  by  th« 
growhng  of  bears,  and  the  howhng  of  wolves,  than  in 
the  midft  of  poKfhed  fociety  environed  by  the  honied 
tongues  of  hypocrites  and  flatterers.  Your  forefts  were 
inhabited  by  beafts  of  prey,  but  caUimny  dwelt  not  in 
their  dens;  frogs  and  toads  croaked  in  your  morafles,  but 
envy  had  not  reared  her  alter  in  the  midft  of  them.  The 
lime-trees  indeed  affumed  not  their  lovely  verdure  till 
the  fpring  was  far  advanced,  and  the  rofes  were  even 
more  tardy  in  unfolding  their  fweets,  but  innocence  and 
joy  were  perennial  plants  in  your  gardens.  The  foil  was 
fparing  of  its  fruits,  but  benevolence  needs  not  abun- 
dance !  A  grofchen*  is  a  rich  prefent  when  m.oiftened 
with  the  tear  of  fj^mpathy,  and  a  louis  d'or  has  no  valus 
T/ithout  it.  Oh  fleeting  time  !  fcatter,  if  thou  wilt,  the 
reft  of  thefe  pages  to  the  winds  of  heaven,  only  let  this 
one — this  on  Vvhich  I  now  infcribe  the  beloved  nam.es 
of  Frederick  and  Sophia  Helena  Rofe— -let  this  one  re- 
main untouched  !  for  thou  wouldft  fnatch  it  from  die 
alter  of  virtue  and  afTedijon,  on  which  I  place  it  as  an 
offering  of  gratitude. 

Neither  did  the  ParnaiTian  maids  rcfufe  to  ernbellifh 
this  foreft.  The  two  firfc  dramas  I  ever  wrote,  which 
I  confider  as  pofrefTing  fome?%egree  of  real  merit.  The 
Hermit  of  Formcnteray  and  Adelaide  of  Wuljingen^  were 
written  at  Keikel.  Th^ormer  vre  played  among  our- 
felves,  and  this  private  performance  revived  my  pafTion 
for  the  ftage  with  eveii^ncreafed  violence.    To  that 

*  A  grofchen  is  a  fmall  coin,  worth  aLciit  two-pence  Er-ghlh 
n:  o;.  t  y  T  r  a  n  s  l  a  t  o  r. 


LIFE  OF  KOTZECUE. 


73 


paffion  Reval  was  indebted  for  the  inilitution  of  an 
cxceHent  private  theatre,  which  produced  both  aftors 
and  a'flrelTes  of  no  common  talents.  It  was  opened 
with  a  comedy  of  mine,  called  Every  Fool  has  his  Cap. 
As  a  true  German,  I  could  not  yet  wholly  fnake  off  my 
propenfity  to  imitation,  and  this  piece  had  much  the 
fame  degree  of  refemblance  to  Moliere's  Avare,  as  at 
fugar  figure  has  to  thofe  made  of  bufcuit  at  Drefden. 
For  this  reafon  I  keep  it  fnug  in  my  drawer  with  a  va- 
riety of  other  papers. 

I  cannot  now  recolle(^l  through  what  cafualty  I  firfl 
conceived  the  idea  of  writing  the  hiftory  of  Henry  tht 
LtOTiy  Duke  of  Briiripiv'ick,  a  hero  whofe  various,  and,  in 
many  refptds,  romantic  fate,  always  interefted  me  ex- 
tremely. On  a  journey  v/hich  I  took  through  a  part  of 
Germiny,  in  the  year  1785,  among  other  places  I  vifited 
Wolfenbiittcl  and  Hanover.  With  a  view  to  my  in- 
tended work,  I  carefully  learched  the  libraries  of  thofc 
places,  rummaging  over  old  chronicles  and  legends  for 
many  weeks  together,  writing  and  re-writing,  till  at 
length  I  m'ght  venture  to  affert  that  I  was  in  poffjfiion 
of  a  very  competent  ftore  of  materials  for  my  uiidertak* 
ing.  I  had  even  gonefo  far  as  abfolutely  to  have  prepar- 
ed fome  detached  parts  of  the  hiftory,  v/hen  two  v/orks 
appearing  nearly  together,  the  one  hiftorical,  the  other 
a  fort  of  romance,  in  both  of  which  Duke  Henry  was 
one  of  the  moft  confpicuous  perfonages,  my  plan  waa 
entirely  laid  afide. 


76 


LIFE   eF  KOTZEBUE. 


I  now  once  more  enlilled  among  the  corps  of  Journal- 
ills,  by  the  publication  of  a  monthly  work  for  the  bene- 
fit of  the  territory  where  I  then  refided.  To  this  I  affix- 
ed the  whimfical  title,  For  the  Mind  and  Heart.  It  v.-as 
carried  on  for  a  year,  but  did  not  receive  fufScient  fup- 
port  to  encourage  the  profecuting  it  further.  Some 
pieces  \vritten  for  this  work  are  publiihcd  in  the  four 
Yclun.ts  of  my  rnifcellaneous  writings. 

Another,  and  much  more  important  idea  foon  after, 
for  a  while,  occupied  my  whole  attention.  I  wanted  to 
write  an  ample  treatife  upon  The  Honour  and  D'tftjonour^ 
the  Fame.,  both  temporal  and  pojlhumous,  of  all  Times  and 
all  Nations. 

I  confider  it  as  fome  merit  ever  to  have  proje£led  fo 
grand  a  work,  even  though  I  found  my  powers  not 
equal  to  the  carrying  it  into  execution.  The  idea  of  it 
was,  befides,  produftive  of  real  advantage  to  me  in  other 
refpe6ls.  It  ferved  to  exercife  my  talents,  to  give  me 
more  juft  conceptions  of  my  own  powers,  and  was  the 
occafion  of  my  reading  many  a  hiftorical  and  philofo- 
phical  work,  which  perhaps  otherwife  had  never  engag- 
ed my  attention.  In  fhort,  the  colleiling  materials  for  it, 
was  the  fource  of  abundant  inftruftion  to  my  mind.  Ne- 
ver therefore  fliall  I  repent  the  unwearied  dihgence  with 
which  this  idea  was  for  a  while  purfued,  nor  the  number- 
lefs  hours  fpcnt  upon  it.  The  only  thing  I  repent  is, 
that  I  was  induced  fome  time  after  to  print,  though  not 
in  its  original  form,  a  part  of  the  work,  which  treated 
Of  Nobility.    But  more  on  this  iubjedt  hereafter. 


LIFE  OFKOTZEBUE. 


77 


III  the  autumn  of  1787,  I  was  firll  feized  with  an  ill- 
nefs,  which  for  feveral  years  held  me  fufpended  between 
death,  and  what  is  perhaps  ftill  more  to  be  deprecated 
than  death  itfelf,  the  apprehenfion  of  fmking  into  a 
confirmed  melancholy.  It  was  during  the  height  of  this 
diforder  that  I  wrote  Mifanthropy  and  Repentance,  and 
The  Indians  in  England.  Thefe  two  pieces  v/ere  finifh- 
ed  in  the  fpace  of  not  more  than  eight  or  nine  weeks. 
Mever,  either  before,  or  fince,  did  I  feel  fuch  a  rapid 
flow  of  ideas  and  imagery  as  during  that  period,  and  I 
believe  it  to  be  undeniable,  that  by  fome  kinds  of  illnefs, 
particularly  thofe  in  which  the  irritation  of  the  nerves  is 
increafed,  the  powers  of  the  mind  are  abundantly  ele- 
Tated,  as  difeafed  mufcles  alone  produce  pearls. 

lii  the  year  1789,  I  wrote  The  Virgin  of  the  Sun,  The 
Natural  Son,  and  Brother  Maurice  the  Humourijl.  I  alfo 
proceeded  in  the  colleition  of  my  mifcellaneous  writings. 
The  little  romance  of  The  Dangerous  Wager,  was  ano- 
ther produclion  of  the  fame  year.  It  v\^as  occalioned 
by  a  friendly  joke,  and  if  many  a  hypocritical  fhoulder  be 
fhrugged,  or  many  a  hypccrilical  eye  be  rolled  at  it,  it 
is  yet  by  no  means  contemptible,  as  the  cifufion  of  a 
iportive  moment. 

Many  very  abiurd  things  have  been  fa'd  and  written 
upon  the  fubjcvSl  of  Mifanthropy  and  Repentance.  Among 
other  accufations  brought  againft  me,  it  has  been  urged 
that  I  have  not  adminiHered  ftricl  poetical  judice,  in 
granting  unquahfied  pardon  to  Eulali?.,  and  reftoiing  fo 
great  a  criiiiinal  to  her  ftation  in  focicty  and  to  every 
G  2 


78 


LIFE  OF  K0TZE3UE. 


joy  of  life.*  But  no  one  feems  to  have  confidered  the 
dreadful  punlfhrncnt  fhe  has  necefiarily  incurred  frcm 
the  refledlion  upon  her  ov/n  mifcondu^l,  or  to  have  ex- 
amined whether  any  pardon  could  releafe  her  from  thofe 
reflexions,  and  whether  a  woman  with  fuch  a  mind,  la- 
bouring under  the  preiTure  of  a  fulhed  confcience, 
could  ever  be  happy  again.  To  Zieglerf  alone  do  thefe 
ideas  appear  at  all  to  have  fuggefled  themfclves,  yet  his 
yiew  cf  the  fubjeft  is  extremely  perverted,  and  by  tak- 
ing the  unjuililiable  hberty  of  recalling  Eulalia's  feducer 

*  Notwithftanding  the  objedions  that  I^ave  been  made  to  the 
morality  of  M'rfanth)  opy  and  Repentance ,  Kct2ebue  in  I'.is  preface  to 
The  Natural  Son,  fays,  he  has  been  well  alTured  that  this  play  was 
the  means  of  reclaimirg  a  wife  who  hau  th^pcd  from  her  hufband. 

Translator. 

f  From  Kotzebue's  preface  to  The  Noble  Lisy  it  appears  that 
Ziegler  wrote  a  druuia  as  a  conlinniition  to  Mlfcnthrcpy  and  Rs~ 

Pcr.tance.  Upon  the  fi'l>je<5l  cf  this  ccntinuation,  Kotscbue  fays, 
"  I  have  a  fmcere  value  for  the  growir.g  talents  of  thif  ycv.ng  poet, 
"  but  I  think  the  grei  teit  part  of  the  niifcry  which  he  naeafui  es 
*•  out  in  fuch  abundance  to  my  wedded  pa'r,  originates  folcly  in 
his  not  removing  them,  from  their  former  place  of  abode,  ard 
"  fixing  them  in  I'ome  remote  ard  retired  fpot,  far  frcm  the  con- 
veniences,  but  far  alfo  from  the  endlefs  ftrifes  and  dil'cords  cf 
*'  fociety  Ziv-glcr  had  an  undoubted  right,  if  he  chofe  it,  to 
*'  write  a  co!itinuaticn  of  my  drama,  but  furely  he  ought  net  to 
"  have  recalled  to  life,  men  whom  I  had  purpofely  defaoyed,  and 
*'  by  this  m.eans  anrjihilate  one  of  the  ftrcngeft  n.otives  for  Mei- 
"  nau's  parJoning  his  w  fe.  A  circumlhiiice  of  which  no  one 
"  ought  to  lo)e  fight  in  juciging  of  my  drama."  Kotzebue  there- 
fore, in  confeoiience  of  his  difapprobaticn  of  the  plai)  Z.ieglt  r  fol- 
lo'ved,  wrote  The  Noble  L:e^  in  which  he  refls  Eulalia's  urhappi- 
refs  folely  upon  her  ov/n  refie61ioi:s.  In  this  refped  the  moral  of 
the  piece,  us  he  himfclf  otferves,  is  highly  to  be  approved.  In 
another  refpedl  it  is  rot  quite  fo  unexceptionablf .  A  Lie  can  ne- 
ver be  Noble,  but  muft  necefiarily  degrade  its  framer,  by  what- 
ever motives  it  may  have  reen  induced,  and  a  man  like  Meinau 
■could  fcarcely  expedl  that  fo  peer  a  device  as  he  pradlifed,  would 

.  Culm  the  felf-reproachcs  of  a  finccrc  penitent. — Translator. 


LIFE   OF  KOTZEBUE. 


19 


again  to  life,  he  has  wholly  fruilrated  the  moral  in  view. 
I  therefore  wrote  The  Noble  Lte^  from  which,  if  I  have 
again  brought  forward  a  woman  deviating  from  chaftity, 
a  fubjeft  on  which  the  impure  imaginations  of  the  critics 
deh'ght  to  dwell,  I  am  confideHt  as  fine  a  moral  may  be 
deduced  as  ever  was  preached  from  the  pulpit,  or  repre- 
fented  upon  the  ilage. 

As  an  interefting  anecdote  never  can  be  ill-timed,  I 
truH  I  m.ay  be  allowed  here  to  introduce  one,  related 
to  me  by  a  perfon  ci  great  credibility,  and  which,  tho' 
I  cannot  undertake  to  pledge  myfelf  for  its  veracity,  I 
have  reafon  to  believe  true.  At  the  time  when  M'lfati^ 
thropy  and  Repentance  was  played  very  frequently  at  Vi- 
enna, the  following  fquib  was  one  morning  found  in  the 
Emperor  Jofcph  the  Second's  audience-chamber.  **  In 
this  place  is  performed  daily,  Mlfanthropy  without 
R?pc::lanceJ'^  One  of  the  feverefl,  and  I  am  inclined  to 
think,  one  of  the  rnoHundeferved  farcafms  ever  put  forth 
againfl  a  perfon  in  that  exalted  ftation. 

At  my  return  from  Pyrmont,  where  I  fpent  fome  time 
in  the  year  1 790,  I,  unluckily  for  myfeif,  dipped  my 
pen  in  foreign  gall,  and  wrote  fome  fiieets,  of  which  I 
can  truly  fay,  that  they  v/ere  alas  !  damned  to  too  much 
renown.  On  thefe  I  have  fuSciently  explain ed  m.yfelf 
in  a  periodical  publication;  and  can  only  now  add,  that 
I  fuil  retain  the  fentiments  I  then  delivered,  and  ccnfi- 
der  every  word  there  written  as  the  pureft  truth.  The 
worthy  Zimmerman  is  now  no  more.  It  muft  not  be 
laid,  De  mcrlu'is  nil  mft  bene y  hut  cle  morli/is  nil  niji  vere, 
I  hare  no  longer  either  good  or  ev^l  to  hope  from  him ; 


80 


LIFE  OP  KOTZEKUE. 


and  I  may  furely  be  believed,  when  I  repeat  from  the 
fulnefs  of  my  heart,  that  he  was  an  excellent  man.  Per- 
haps his  eccentricities  fometimes  led  him  aftray,  but  ev- 
en his  weakneffes  were  not  thofe  of  a  common  mind.  I 
could  here  relate  an  anecdote  of  him  that  would  excite 
the  utmoft  aftonifnment  in  the  reader,  and  almoft  con- 
ftiain  him  to  fall  down  and  worfliip  the  goo'd  man*s  afh- 
cs.  And  it  fhould  be  related,  were  not  the  perfons  impli- 
cated in  it,  and  v/ho  alone  could  perfectly  underftand 
me,  yet  living. 

But  enough. — My  enthuiiaftic  admiration  of  him  wat 
no  crime,  yet  the  noble  fpring  was  poifoned  by  a  foreign 
hand.  I  dipped  my  glafs  into  it,  and  emptied  the  bale- 
ful contents  myfelf  ! — Yes,  I — I  alone  have  been  injur- 
ed by  that  hateful  adventure,  and  it  is  yet  fcm.e  fatisiac- 
tion  to  my  foul,  that  it  cannot  be  deprived  of  this  Jola^ 
men  mljerum. 

While  I  was  myfelf  preparing  this  fcourge  to  em.bit- 
ter  my  whole  life,  the  arm  of  fate  was  in  a  llill  more  fa- 
tal way  av/fully  extended  over  me.  The  heft  of  wives 
was  fuddenly  fnatched  from  this  earth,  and  poignant 
anguifh  for  her  Icfs  drove  me  as  a  fugitive  into  the  wide 
v:orId.  I  fled  to  Paris,  and  might  have  remained  for 
half  a  year  amid  the  builie  of  that  capital,  without  fo 
fnuch  as  giving  a  hint  to  our  Am.baffador  of  miy  being 
there.  But  weaned,  after  a  while,  with  living  in  the 
midft  of  fuch  ccnvulfions,  I  transferred  my  abode  to 
Mentz,  whi  h  then  enjoyed  profound  peace  and  tran- 
quility. H-^re  I  arranged  for  the  prefs  a  detail  of  the 
iieavy  calamity  I  had  experienced,  ai:d  of  my  confequent 


Life  of  xotzfbuh 


81 


wanderings,  which  was  foon  after  publiflied  under  the 
title  of  My  Flight  to  Paris. 

On  this  work,  as  ufual,  an  ample  Hiarc  of  ahfuri 
and  Ronfenfical  remarks  have  been  made  ;  in  particular, 
it  hao  been  ceniured  as  an  artificial  defcription  of  falfe 
feeliiig-:.  Upon  the  probable  origin  of  this  charge,  fo 
devoid  of  heart  and  foul,  and  Vviiich  I  feel  to  be  utterly 
groundlefs,  I  have  reflefted  much,  and  I  think  it  may- 
be traced  to  the  fame  fource  which  produces  in  general 
fo  much  moral  excrement,  to  the  felf-fulScient  vanity  by 
which  the  mafs  of  mankind  are  always  powerfully  influ- 
enced. Underftanding,  andfeehng,  are  things  polTelTed 
by  each  individual  only  in  the  degree  juft  fufficient  to 
fatisiy  himielf.  That  another  excels  him  in  underlland- 
ing,  many  a  man  will  acknowledge  without  hefltation 
or  reluctance,  fnice  this  is  commonly  a  matter  too  palpa- 
ble to  be  eafdy  denied,  and  he  finds  no  dilficulty  in  con- 
fohng  himfelf  with  the  idea,  that  he  at  leaft  polTefTes 
the  fame  improveabiiity  of  mind  as  the  rell  of  his  fpecies^ 
while  this  allowed  fuperiority  only  arifes  from  the  ad- 
vantages of  education,  or  of  being  placed  in  a  more  for- 
tunate fituation  in  life,  an  effeft  of  chance  that  he  can 
readily  pardon.  But  feeling  being  conlidered  as  a  gift 
of  nature,  he  cannot,  without  humiliation  to  himfelf, 
allow  another  to  ponefs  it  in  a  fuperior  degree  ;  confe- 
quently,  if  he  meet  with  any  thing  into  which  the  con- 
trailed  fenfibility  of  his  ov/n  heart  v/ili  not  permit  him 
to  enter,  he  calls  the  whole  matter  fiflion,  and  fatisfies 
his  felf-love  with  a  fhrug  of  the  fiioulders.  Perhaps  I 
ought  to  have  reflected  upon  thefe  thing?  fconer,  and 


82 


LIFE  OF  K0T2LCUE. 


reftrained  myfeelings  within  my  own  bofom,  nor  fufFercd 
the  impetuous  torrent  to  overflow  its  proper  bounds. 

Another  dcfcription  of  men  call  in  queftion  the  genu- 
inenefs  of  facPi  feelings  from  mere  malice.  They  arc 
fenfible,  that  the  poignant  affli^lion  of  a  hufband  depriv- 
ed of  his  heart's  whole  treafure,  muft  excite  compafiion 
and  intereft  in  every  breall  capable  of  fympathy.  Of 
thefe  treafures,  their  m.ahgnity  would  gladly  rob  him  ; 
and  this  can  only  be  done  by  proving  that  they  are  be- 
ilowed  without  reafon.  Thence  arife  the  malevolent  cri- 
ticifms  fo  liberally  beftowed  on  this  book,  w^hich  yet, 
Heaven  knows  !  was  diftated  by  real  anguifh  of  heart* 
This  ftamp  it  undeniably  bears,  and  I  call  upon  any  the 
moft  ingenious  fiiSlionift,  to  write  in  a  fimilar  ftyle,  un- 
iefs  placed  in  a  fimilar  fituation.  But  fhould  fate  ever 
plunge  him  into  circumflances  of  like  diftreis,  he  will 
fir.d  that  art  has  no  fhare  in  dicTtating  the  language  em- 
ployed to  defcribe  his  feelings. 

The  critics,  either  in  the  Literary  InUlunncer,  or  in 
the  Un'i'vsrfal  Gerrnan  Library.,  an  I  v/rite  from  memory, 
I  c^nnot  polk;  vely  fay  which,  have  been  guilty  of  an  odi- 
ous miireprefcntntion  '.vith  reipefl  to  one  pafrage,  which. 
I  cannot  here  forbear  to  notice.  I  h  ivt;mentionf^d,  as  a 
flriking  clrcamitance,  that  while  I  was  at  Paris,  the 
taylor  who  came  to  take  my  meafure  for  a  fuit  of 
clothes,  kept  his  hat  on  all  the  time  he  was  with  me  ; 
tk  s,  I  obferved,  appeared,  even  in  a  free  country,  rather 
a  piece  of  boorifhnefs,  unlefs  the  man  was  a  quaker. 
The  critics,  however,  can  find  nothing  cbjeftionablc  ia 
tibe  i&cident,  but  give  tiie  world  to  underfland,  that  the 


LIFE   OF  KOTZEBUE. 


85 


Prefidenty  giving  me  that  title  with  a  marked  fnecr,  on- 
ly took  ofFt-nce  with  the  taylor  becaufe  he  confidered 
him  as  failing  in  refpect  for  his  dignity.  I  wifh  that 
any  one  who  forms  this  judgment  would  favour  me  with 
reading  the  pafTage  again  ;  and  fliould  he  find  the  leaft 
realon  to  fuppofe  my  remark  originated  in  fuch  peurile 
vanity,  may  I  be  condemned  to  read  Nicolai's  Travels 
through.*  But  the  critic  himfelf  could  not  mifunder- 
ftand  me  :  let  any  one,  therefore,  judge  of  what  mate- 
rials fuch  a  heart  muft  be  compofed. 

This  Prefidency,  v/ith  which  I  had  now  been  honour- 
ed for  ten  years,  has  indeed  always  been  a  ft|imbling 
block,  and  rock  of  offence  to  thefefame  critics  ;  though, 
jnfadl,  it  is  a  matter  in  which  they  can  have  no  con- 
cern. I  once,  in  fome  publication,  from  real  modefty, 
and  pure  love  of  truth,  confeffed  that  I  did  not  confi- 
dermyfvilf  as  a  fcholar.  "  How?  no  fcholar  ?"  obferv- 
ed  the  critics,  "  and  yet  a  Prefdent  What  will  they 
r.ot  confider  as  as  a  crime  ?  Had  I  afferted  that  I  was 
a  fcholar,  the  very  fame  gentlemen  had  probably  ex- 
claimed, "  See  there  the  varikv  of  the  man  !  he  think? 
he  mud  be  a  fcholar  becaufe  he  is  a  prefident." 

Deeply  impreffed  with  the  unbridled  puerilities  cf 
which  I  had  myfelf  been  an  eye-witnefs  among  the  Pa- 
ri fians — while  I  refided  at  Mentz,  I  wrote  7^he  Female 
jacobin  Club,  a  little  piece  that  I  cannot  think  deilitute 
of  real  humour,  though  Huber,  who  is  of  a  direcftly  op- 

*  Nicolai  is  the  publifher  of  one  of  t'le  periodical  works 
KieiUioned  r.bovc,  The  Ur.iverfal  Gerp:an  Library. 

Translator, 


84 


LIFE   OF  XOTZLnirE* 


pofite  political  creed  with  myiclf,  has  fallen  upon  it  fo 
unmercifully.  Yet  let  me  here  avow,  that  I  deteft  eve- 
ry fpecies  of  tyranny  no  lefs  heartily  than  does  Huber 
himfelfj  as  I  have  fufficiently  evinced  in  my  PhilGfoph'ical 
Plclvre  of  the  Reign  of  Louis  the  Fourteenih^  But  I  ne- 
ver can  make  myfeif  the  partizan  of  any  faclion. 

The  laft -mentioned  work  I  fent  in  manufcript  to  my 
piibliflier  at  Strafburgh.  This  gave  occafion  to  fome 
correfpondence  between  us,  when  I  uniformly  found, 
that  his  letters  were  opened  before  they  came  into  my 
hands,  I  complained  of  this  to  our  minifter  at  Mentz, 
who  enquired  into  the  matter,  but  could  procure  me  np 
fatisfa6tion :  It  was  affirmed,  that  they  came  thither 
opened.  Never  to  this  day  have  I  been  able  to  trace 
out  by  what  means  it  could  happen  that  the  honour  of 
being  fufpc6ted  as  a  fpy,  or  concealed  Jacobin  was  con- 
ferred upon  me  ;  but  it  appears  to  be  my  hard  fate,  that 
while  Huber,  v^:ith  his  affociates,  profcribe  me  as  the  ad- 
vocate of  defpotifm,  the  real  fupporters  of  that  monfter 
confider  me  as  a  dangerous  democrat,  whom  they  cannot 
watch  with  too  jealous  an  eye.  I  could  cite  many  ex- 
traordinary incidents  in  corroboration  of  my  pofition, 
i/  a  man  alv/ays  dared  to  fay  all  that  he  can» 

While  at  Mentz,  I  was  obliged  to  commence  a  law- 
fuit,  the  ev^nt  of  which  I  intended  to  have  communica- 
ted to  the  public  ;  fmce,  as  it  was  inftituted  agaiaft  a  pira- 
tical publiflier,  it  v/as  deeply  interefting  to  every  autlior, 
afiwell  as  to  every  honefl  man.  V/hen  ftrfl  I  menaced  this 
profecution,  my  pirate  v/as  extremely  infolent,  and  in  a 
^nanner  defied  me  ;  but  finding  that  I  was  very  feriou§ 


LIFE   OF  KOTZEBUE. 


85 


in  the  matter,  he  became  equally  crouching,  and  wrote 
me  a  moll  fervile  letter,  to  beg  my  compafiion  fcr  a  nu- 
merous family,  who  mufl:  be  ruined,  fhoald  the  profecu- 
lion  be  continued.  For  their  fakes  I  pardoned  him,  and 
let  the  matter  reft,  and  for  their  fakes  alfo  I  now  for- 
bear to  mention  his  name  and  place  of  abode. 

During  the  fame  period,  I  wrote  The  Parroty  Sultan 
Wampum y  and  The  Knight  of  the  Mirror.  Sultan  V/ am- 
pum  has,  of  all  my  pieces,  been  the  leaft  fuccefsful  with 
the  pubhc  ;  and  to  confefs  the  truth,  it  is  but  a  mode- 
rate performance.  I  relied  much  upon  the  mufic,  hav- 
ing been  accuftomedto  fee  the  wretched  produftions  of 
a  Schikaneder,  a,  Vulpius,  and  others,  extremely  well 
received  when  recommended  by  the  good  genius  of  the 
compofer.  The  Literary  Intelligencer ^  true  to  its  fpirit 
of  contradiftion,  amufes  itfelf  extremely  with  my  calling 
Sultan  Wampum  a  burlefque  drama,  and  afTerts  it  to  be 
one  of  the  moll  ferious  pieces  I  had  ever  written.  Had 
I  called  it  a  drama  myfelf,  they  would  have  ridiculed  it 
as  a  mere  farce. 

The  Knight  of  the  Mirror  is  a  ftill  inferior  produdlion. 
The  plot,  as  I  was  very  lately  told,  is  taken  from  a  ro- 
mance by  Vulpius.  I  folemnly  proteft,  however,  that 
if  fuch  a  work  does  exift,  I  never  faw  it.  In  the  firil 
^lace,  I  never  thought  any  thing  written  by  that  author 
worth  my  attention  ;  and  in  the  fecond  place,  I  can  ac- 
count very  fatisfaciorily  for  the  manner  in  which  I  came 
by  my  ftory.  Walter,  a  mufician  of  great  eminence, 
was  defirous  of  compofing  an  opera  of  my  writing,  a  wifh 
4)y-  which  I  confidered  myfelf  as  much  honored.    I  was 

H 


86 


LITE  OF  KOTZEBUE. 


perplexed  to  find  a  fubjed,  when  Chrift,  then  an  a(*t:oy 
at  Mentz,  happening  to  come  in,  and  hearing  of  my 
embarraflment,  related  this  fairy  tale,  which  he  proba- 
bly had  recently  been  reading.  As  I  well  knew  how 
little  was  expefted  of  the  text  in  an  opera,  I  thought  it 
would  anfwer  my  purpofe  as  well  as  any  thing  elfe,  and 
within  a  fortnight  from  that  time  the  Knight  of  the  Mir- 
ror was  finifned.  Very  willingly  I  refign  to  Mr.  Vulpi- 
us  the  honor  of  inventing  the  ftory ;  and,  if  he  wifhes 
it,  that  alfo  of  having  written  the  opera. 

I  mentioned,  at  the  commencement  of  this  fltetch, 
that  I  never  but  once  in  my  life  wrote  a  work  at  the  in- 
lligation  of  other  people.  This  was  my  Fragment  npon 
Nobility,  I  could  fay  much  upon  this  fubjedl,  but  I  dare 
not.  If  it  were  known,  and  in  time,  perhaps  it  may  be 
known,  in  what  an  equivocal  fituation  I  was  placed  by 
my  perfeverance  in  certain  opinions  I  had  adopted,  mif- 
apprehended  as  they  were,  fo  that  even  my  moil  confi- 
dential private  correfpondents  became  dangerous  to  me  : 
If  it  were  known  what  encouragement  I  had  to  engage 
in  this  work,  and  from  v.'hom  it  was  received — it  vvouid 
be  confidered  in  a  very  different  point  of  view  from  that 
in  which  it  now  appears,  and  the  writer  would  be  con- 
templated, net  merely  in  the  light  of  an  author,  but  in 
that  of  a  citizen  and  father. 

Yet  I  cannot  deny,  that  I  hare  been  guilty  of  fome 
inflances  cf  improper  complaifarxe  in  it,  and  triefe  th^ 
critics  have  net  failed  fufficiently  to  expofe.  For  one 
thing  only  was  I  unprepared,  that  this  chafiifement 
Ihould  be  infJ£lcd  by  a  man  whom  I  regarded  as  pjr 


LIFE   OF  KOTZEBUE. 


87 


fteady  friend,  and  whofe  friendfhip  I  think  I  had  de- 
fervcd.  This,  I  own,  has  been  to  me  a  bitter  pill.  It 
will  eafily  be  imagined,  that  I  refer  to  a  work  lately 
publiflied  upon  Humanity,  Had  a  general  lift  of  all  liv- 
ing authors  been  laid  before  me,  and  I  had  been  defired 
to  feleft  from  among  them  the  writer  of  this  work,  its 
real  author  would  have  been  almoft  the  laft  upon  whom 
my  conjectures  had  fallen.  This  is  one  of  thofe  many 
cruel  deceptions  I  have  experienced  in  the  courfe  of  my 
life,  which,  I  cannot  diffemble  it,  have  occafioned  me 
very  fevere  heart-aches.  What  are  all  the  daggers  aimed 
by  the  Literary  Intelligencer  in  comparifon  of  one  ftab 
from  the  hand  of  a  friend  he  loved,  awakening  the  fleep- 
cr  from  a  pleafing  dream  ? 

Not  lefs  unexpected  and  agonizing  to  me  than  the 
ftab  to  fuch  a  fleeper,  was  the  ftroke  I  received,  when 
Haber,  by  the  pubhcation  of  his  mifcellaneous  writings, 
thre  .V  ^ifid  s  the  ma  le  of  the  critic.  When  T  foaid  that  he 
in  vviofe  comp  ;iy  I  had  paxTed  fo  many  pleifait  hours 
— he,  whofe  taleaLs  I  had  fo  much  admired,  and  whofe 
acquaintance  I  had  fo  higtily  valued — he,  who  appeared 
fo  warmly  attached  to  mc — he,  who,  notwithftandiiig 
the  general  indiffereuce  he  (hewed  to  my  writings,  had 
honoured  my  Virgin  of  the  Sun  fo  far  as  to  enrich  it  with 
an  additional  fcene,  of  fuch  merit,  that  I  only  wifh  I  had 
been  permitted  to  publifh  it — he,  in  a  word,  from  whom 
I  parted  with  a  moft  cordial  embrace — that  he  was  the 
man  who  had  thrii'k  the  dagger  into  my  back. 

I  may  be  told,  perhaps,  that  a  great  diftinftion  is  to  be 
made  between  the  remarks  of  the  critic,  and  what  palTe* 


88 


LIFE   OF  KOTZEBUE. 


in  friendly  intercourfe  between  two  private  acquaintance. 
But  to  me  I  know  it  would  be  impoflible  to  endeavour 
to  depreciate  a  man  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  to  whom 
in  private  I  had  m.ade  profefllons  of  friendfliip  and  at- 
tachment. Good  God !  if  public  applaufe  muft  re- 
femble  a  beautiful  woman,  to  win  vvhofe  fmiles  even  a 
brother,  perhaps,  muft  feek  a  brother's  deftru(f\ion,  it 
h  no  obje£l  of  my  w^ifhes — I  renounce  it  for  ever.* 

But  enough  on  this  fubjedl. — Let  me  proceed  to  cor- 
re6l  a  paffage  in  the  third  volume  of  Forjler^s  Vieius, 
Speaking  of  the  Englifli  Theatre,  he  fays,  "  The  dramas 
**  of  one  KOTZEBUE  would  pleafe  upon  the  EngHfli 
"  ftage,  with  the  addition  only  of  a  few  grains  of  fait." 

Strongly  was  I  inclined  on  reading  this  paffage,  to 
offer  the  publifher  a  wager  that  he  could  not  produce  it 
in  Forfter's  ov/n  hand-writing.  Nor  could  he  pofTibly 
have  been  offended  at  my  declaring  that  I  would  accept 
of  no  minor  proof  of  its  authenticity.  Such  a  fufpenfion 
of  my  belief  is  but  a  tribute  due  to  the  efteem  I  enter- 
tained for  his  deceafed  friend.  Often  have  I  confulted 
Forfter  on  my  writings,  and  his  judgment  was  always 
given  with  a  modefty  and  humility  peculiarly  his  own. 
It  is  true,  that  he  has  found  things  to  cenfure  in  my 
dramas,  but  never  did  he  appear  to  confider  them  as 
wanting  fait ;  and  if  I  muft  choofe  between  regarding 

*  When  I  publifti  the  fecond  part  of  this  fketch,  I  will  endea- 
vour to  throw  fome  light  upon  the  probable  foundation  of  this . 
tritiqiie  of  Ruber's.  It  appears  to  me  not  wholly  incredible, 
that  fpleen  and  ill  nature  at  the  fuperior  fuccefs  of  a  rival  dra- 
matift  may  lurk  beneath  his  remarks,  fince  it  is  certain,  that  the 
fate  of  his  own  dramatic  produdions  has  not  been  brilliant. 

Author. 


LIFE  OF  KOTZEBUE, 


89 


this  pafTage  as  an  interpolation,  or  believing  the  worthy 
Forfter  to  h:ive  been  guilty  of  tergiverfation,  I  certainly 
rtiall  abide  by  the  former  opinion. 

Whatever  I  have  vrritten  fince,  has  been  received  in 
a  very  flattering  manner  by  the  public  ;  and,  as  was  con- 
fequently  to  be  expeded,  with  fcarcely  lefs  contume- 
ly by  the  critics.  I  fhall  only  here  give  a  Hft  of  thefs 
works. 

Count  Benyowllcy ;  or,  the  Confpiracy  of  Kamt- 
chatka. 

The  Spaniards  in  Peru  ;  or,  the  Death  of  RoUa. 

Poverty  and  Magnanimity. 

The  Man  of  Forty  Years  Old.* 

The  Negro  Slave. 

The  Madcap.f 

The  Count  of  Burgundy. 

The  Force  of  Calumny. 

Falfe  Shame. 

*  This  is  a  little  p'ece  in  one  a^,  taken  from  the  fame  French 
petite  piece  as  the  beautiful  Englilh  Farce  of  The  Guardian. 

Translator. 

f  It  is  difficult  to  find  a  term  in  Englifh  that  esaAly  cones- 
ponds  with  the  German  Der  Wlkifang^  the  title  given  to  this 
Comedy  in  the  original,  and  lignifying  a  man  full  of  the  tricks 
and  frolics  of  youth  Muk.ip  conveys  the  idea  more  accurately 
than  any  other  term,  only  that  this  is  liable  to  the  objection  of 
being  more  generally  applied  to  a  female  than  to  a  male.  Yet 
th  ^  authority  of  Shakefpcare  may  be  cited  for  applying  it  to  the 
latter  lex. 

'Tvv^as  where  the  madcap  duke  his  uncle  kept. 

Where  is  his  fon,  * 
The  nimble  footed  madcap  Prince  of  Wales  ? 

Xkamslator. 

H  2 


90 


LIFE   OF  KOTZEBUE. 


La  Peyroufc. 

The  youngeft  offspring  of  my  Fancy.* 

Many  of  my  dramas  have  received  the  diftinguiflied 
honour  of  being  tranflated  into  French,  Dutch,  Dan- 
ifh,  Polifh,  Ruffian,  and  even  Italian.  A  new  thorn  in 
the  fides  of  the  critics  .f 

Not  mraiy  days  ago,  I  received  a  letter  from  Mofcow, 
in  which  my  correfpor.d-'nt  writes  :    "  Your  drama  of 

"The  Natural  Sen  has  been  played  here  as  often,  and 
*'  v/Ith  no  lefs  applaiife,  than  was  The  Marriage  of  F'l- 

garo  at  Paris.  It  is  well  tranflated  into  Ruffian." 
-  Is  it  net  fomewhat  extraordinaiy,  that  at  the  fame 
time,  in  fo  n;any  different  countries,  the  pubhc  fhould 
manifeil  fo  perverted  a  taile  ?  That  they  ftould  find 
things  worthy  of  patronage  and  applaufe,  cn  v/hich  the 
Literary  Intelligmcfr  has  been  pleafed  to  pronounce  an  ir» 
revocable  fentence  of  damnation  : — But  held!  The  in- 

*  This  is  a  collection  of  rnlfccllaneous  pieces,  v/hence  the  pre- 
fent  fcctch  of  the  Author's  life  is  extradLtd.  Six  Voluni<  s  have 
already  been  publiihed  ai  different  periods,  and  it  is  gener;  liy  un- 
derwood that  the  work  is  to  be  contir.ued  occufionaliy  in  the  fame 
\i'ay .-. — Tr  a  n  s  I-  a  t  c  k  . 

f  To  this  lift  of  nations  t1;at  have  regarded  Kctztbne's  woiks 
with  no  flight  decree  of  approbation,  he  might  now  add,  and 
prcb  bly  would  add  w^ith  a  confiderable  degree  of  fatisfaAion, 
ihe  Er.gliih.  It  certainly  mufk  be  a  gez^ius  of  no  common  caft, 
that  can  thus  take  the  lead  on  fo  many  of  the  theatres  in  Europe  ; 
and  perhaps  for  delicate  touches  of  nature,  which  fpeuk  in  the 
moft  forcible  manner  to  every  heart,  Kotzebue  may  be  pronoun- 
ced almoft  unrivalled.  If  report  may  be  depended  upon,  his  re* 
putation  as  a  dramatic  writer  was  never  higher  on  the  continent 
than  at  the  prefcnt  niom.ent,  and  while  Pizarro  ccntir.ucs  to 
draw  crowded  houfes  at  Drury-Iane  Theatre  every  nif  ht  of  its 
performance,  cn  inoft  of  thcr|>rinci}>al  theatres  in  Germany 
fcarteiy  any  but  fcis pieces  are  now  aikl — TRANSiATOii. 


LIFE  OF   KOTZEBUE.  91 

veftigation  of  fo  curious  a  phenomenon  fliall  be  referved 
for  the  fequel  of  this  work. 

For  the  prefent  I  have  done  with  myfelf.  Heaven 
grant  that  none  of  my  readers  may  have  yawned  over 
this  detail  of  my  literary  adventures  !  Should  I  be  re- 
proached with  having  intruded  a  parcel  of  trifling,  infig- 
nificant  circumftances  upon  the  world — with  having,  as 
is  faid  of  Marivaux,  po'tfed  nothings  in  a  balance  made  cf 
a  fpider^s  iveh,  I  will  not  pretend  to  refute  the  charge. 
I  fiiall  only  obferve,  that  according  to  my  ideas,  to 
thofe  who  make  the  human  heart  their  fludy,  nothing 
can  be  uninterefting  which  contributes  towards  tracing 
the  progrefs  of  its  formation,  nothing  infignificant  which 
tends  to  fliow  by  what  procefs  a  man  comes  to  be  v/hat 
he  is,  be  his  calents  many  or  few.  Every  one  who  fhall 
purchafe  this  book,  knows  beforehand  what  he  is  to  ex- 
pect. Thefe  little  volumes  are  the  Offspring  of  my  Fancy  y 
confeqiiently  muft  be  compiled  after  my  own  humour, 
not  after  that  of  other  people,  unlefs  I  mean  to  fallify 
their  title. 

The  continuation  of  this  iketch,  which  I  intend  to 
publiih  at  fome  future  period,  I  mull  requefl  ail  its  read- 
era  to  confider  as  a  defence  extorted  from  me  by  my  ca- 
lumniators. So  often  have  I  been  dragged  by  the  crit- 
ics to  the  bar  of  their  and  m.y  judges,  the  public,  that 
it  would  appear  too  much  Hke  treating  thofe  judges  with 
indilTerence  at  lead:,  if  not  with  contempt,  were  I  entire- 
ly to  abilain  from  anfwering  their  charges.  In  this  view 
of  tlie  matter,  I  have  fome  claim  to  pardon  and  indul- 
gence.   Yet  let  me  affur^  that  public  to  whom  I  appeal. 


92  LIFE  OF  KOTZEBUE. 

that  no  endeavors  fhall  be  omitted  on  my  prjrt,  to  enliven 
as  far  as  poiTible,  fo  dry  a  fubje6l,  by  ftrewing  feme 
flowers  in  the  path,  and  that  I  will  never  lofe  fight  of 
what  Beaumarchais  fays  with  fo  much  juftice — "  Has 
a  man  any  claim,  becaufe  he  is  in  the  right,  to  give 
his  readers  the  vapours,  and  make  his  judges  yawn 
«*  with  ennui  ?  Alas  !  their  fituation  is  ?iready  but  too 
«  irkfomel  ** 


END  OF   THE  LIFE, 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS, 

IN 

THE  AUTUMN  OF  1190. 


Her's  it  was>  by  God  comrnandsdj 
When  with  dire  disease  opprest. 

Still  to  calm  my  bofom's  anguish, 
Still  to  footh  my  soul  to  rest. 

BURGER, 


PREFACE. 


Dearest  Reader^ 

I  DO  not  pretend  to  confider  this  little  work  as  likely 
to  be  ufeful,  perhaps  it  may  not  be  even  entertaining'-, 
i  write  it  to  footh  the  anguiih  of  my  foul — I  write  it  in 
the  mofi:  wretched  moments  of  my  life.  The  lofs  of  a 
wife  whom  I  loved  inexprembly,  drove  me  forth  into  the 
wide  v/orld,  I  fled  the  place  where  my  repofe  was  bu- 
ried for  ever— whence  angels  had  claimed  a  filler's  pre- 
fence  among  themfelvcs.  Ah  !  the  place  I  could  fly, 
but  the  image  of  my  Frederica  followed  me  every  where, 
and  only  in  death,  when  I  fnail  prefs  the  original  again 
CO  my  bofom,  will  it  forfalie  me. 

'Tis  become  a  matter  of  indifpenfible  neceffity  to  my 
heart  to  be  always  talking  or  writing  of  her.  The  hope 
of  allaying  my  anguifli  has  placed  the  pen  in  my  hand 
• — but  the  form  of  my  beloved  v/ife  hovers  over  tlie  pa- 
per ;  I  know  not  what  I  faall  wnte,  yet  I  fee  plainly  it 
A^ii  be  only  of  hen 


V6 


PREFACE. 


Ye,  who  have  hearts  capable  of  fympathy  !  —  Ye  who 
Jiave  fometimes  dropped  a  tear  at  the  reprefentation  of 
my  dramas  !  if  ever  I  acquired  merit  in  your  eyes,  re- 
ward it  by  weeping  with  me  for  my  beloved  Frederica  ! 
Or  at  leaft  fpare  your  cenfures  if  you  take  this  book 
into  your  hands,  and  perhaps  do  not  find  in  it  what  you 
feek.  Indulge  me  with  writing  of  her  ! — fpurn  me  not 
if  even  the  remotell  pbjeft  ftill  brings  me  infenfibly  to 
her  !  Heaven  preferve  ye  all  from  experiencing  like  af- 
fliftion  !  yet  if  ever  a  flmilar  fate  fhould  be  yours,  ye  fiiall 
jiot  intreat  my  compafiion  in  vain. 

Every  hufband  who  at  this  moment  ftill  pofTefTes  his 
beloved  wife,  who  can  ftill  clafp  her  arfeftionately  to  his 
bofom,  v/hen  he  reads  this  and  thanks  God  for  the  blesr 
fmg  yet  fpared  him,  I  afl<;  not  tears  of  him — yet  even  he 
may  furely  pity  me  !  But  ye,  whom  a  fimilarity  of  fate 
dravvs  nearer  to  me  !  ye  who  have  loft  a  hufband  or  a  wife 
v/ho  are  not  yet  forgotten,  let  us  weep  together  !  w^ 
are  brethren  !  To  fuch  I  make  no  excufe  for  writing  a 
book  folely  for  myfclf  and  a  few  frieadc,  a  book  to  re- 
lieve a  wounded  heart. 

I  will  at  fome  time  ereft  the  faireft  monument  I  can 
to  my  Frederica,  but  not  here  ! — At  prefent  I  am  une- 
qual to  the  taf]<:.  When  my  mind  is  foniewhat  more 
compofcd  I  will  write  the  hiilory  of  our  love  and  of  ou* 
marriage.  What  a  moment  will  it  be  for  fuch  a  heart 
as  her's  v/hen  I  draw  afide  the  veil  that  modefty  threw 
over  all  her  virtues — Oh  fhe  was  fo  truly,  fo  inexpreffi- 
bly  good,  not  from  cold  reafoning  and  principle,  but 
from  the  overfiowings  of  a  warm  and  aff"e6lionate  heart  * 


PREFACE. 


91 


Jler  feelings  were  always  noble,  for  there  was  not  a 
place  in  her  bofom  that  could  harbor  an  ignoble  thought. 
Her  heart  and  hand  were  ever  open  to  the  relief  of 
.diilrefs  ;  flie  gave  freely,  and  always  as  one  human  being 
fiiould  give  to  another,  as  though  it  had  been  to  a 
brother  or  a  filler. 

It  was  only  lafl:  fpring  that  on  the  firft  of  April  I  in- 
dulged myfelf  in  a  joke,  which  ended  in  ftill  further 
proving  her  benevolence.  I  wrote  her  an  ill-fpelt,  illit- 
jerate  letter,  as  from  a  poor  widow  living  in  a  remote 
part  of  the  town,  with  two  half-naked  children,  and  no 
b.d  to  lie  on,  and  who,  having  heard  of  her  goodnefs, 
implored  her  afliilance.  The  day  was  cold  and  windy, 
yet  my  Frederica  ordered  the  carriage  to  be  got  ready 
immediately,  and  looking  outfome  clothes  and  linen,  fet 
off  for  the  place.  I  had  run  thither  before  ; — I  faw  the 
carriage  coming,  but  as  it  drew  up  to  a  houfe  in  the 
fuburbs,  I  began  to  be  afraid  my  trick  was  difcovered. 
Oh  no  !  (he  only  flopped  to  buy  fome  rolls  for  the  hun- 
gry children,  and  with  thefe,  her  bundle  of  linen,  aad 
two  roubles  in  her  hand,  (he  proceeded  to  the  houfe 
pointed  out,  where  I  met  her.  She  was  lefs  angry  at 
my  boyifh  levity,  than  concerned  that  (he  was  difap- 
pointed  of  doing  a  good  adlion.  Yet  in  the  eyes  of 
God  it  was  performed  ! — Oh  never  will  the  firft  of  April 
return  without  bringing  tears  into  my  eyes! — And  this 
%7a3  only  one  inftance  out  of  ten  thoufand  ! — Such  a  wife 
I  have  polTeffed  1  Such  a  wife  I  have  loft. 

\  ou,  my  chedihcd  friends  and  a^ciuaintance  !  YoUj 
i 


PREFACE. 


to  whom  I  have  been  able  to  write  notblng  but  my  ^wtfe 
is  dead  ! — You  will  receive  this  bock  with  candour  and 
kindnefs,  fince  it  will  tell  you  what  and  where  I  have 
been,  ever  lince  fate,  while  it  fpared  my  life,  robbed 
me  of  all  that  made  life  valuable  ! — Alas  \  I  once  thought 
that  I  had  loft  my  greateft  treafure  when  I  loft  my 
health  !— Oh  how  was  I  miftaken  !  Even  in  the  horri- 
ble wnnter  of  1783,  when  I  laboured  under  fuch  fevere 
bodily  fuffering,  ftill  with  my  Frederica  by  my  fide,  I 
tafted  the  foothing  confolation  of  domeftic  joy,  not 
to  be  purchafed  by  wealth  or  honours.  For  my  fake, 
fhe  renounced  all  company,  all  diverfions,  and  confiderzd 
it  as  no  facrilice  to  confine  herfelf  entirely  to  my  fick 
chamber.  If  then  I  was  but  for  a  few  minutes  free 
from  anguiili,  how  fereae  was  my  foul !  how  deeply  dic^ 
I  feel  that  all  other  happinefs  is  poor  and  v/eak  when 
compared  v/ith  wedded  happinefs !  One  kifs  from  my 
wife,  one  prefiure  of  her  hand  m.ade  even  my  moft  nau- 
feous  medicines  fwcet. 

Thus  was  ihe  my  fole  fupport,  when  I  w^s  loft  to 
every  thing  clfe,  and  now  that  1  could  again  have  enjoy- 
ed life  with  her  as  formerly,  now  fhe  is  no  m.ore  !  But  fhe 
was  perhaps  on-y  a  prot(.6:ing  angel  fent  to  fave  mo.  ;  her 
errand  is  accoKiplifhcd,  and  fne  is  returned  to  her  blefTed 
abode — yet  flie  ftiil  hovers  invifibly  over  me  ! — we  fnall 
one  day  be  reunited  ! — Ch  fAcet  felf-ftattery,  forfahc 
me  not  !  in  this  hope  alone  can  I  nnd  a  baliam  for  m.y 
wounds. 

I  know  net  by  what  nam.e  to  crll  thefe  erTufior.s  cf 
my  heart.    This  fiiouM  be  a  preface — but  what  refem? 


PREFACE. 


99 


Hance  does  it  bear  lo  a  preface  '  No  matter  !  it  fpeaks 
of  Frederica  and  my  bofom  is  relieved  ! 

It  was  my  defign  to  (late  to  thee,  compafiionate  read- 
er, what  thou  wert  to  expeft  in  this  book.  'Tis  a  tour 
to  Paris,  yet  has  it  no  refemblance  to  the  common  mafs 
of  tours,  lince  I  faw  nothing  but  my  loft  wife  ! — Hie  fol- 
lowed me  every  where  ! — Ihe  then  muft  be  almoft  my 
fole  theme  ! 

Yec,  I  was  for  a  while  an  inhabitant  of  Paris,  but  of 
of  Paris  I  know  very  little.  The  principal  occurrences 
during  my  ftay  there,  I  have  noted  down  in  the  form  of 
a  journal.  Thia  employment  has  foothed  my  wounded 
mind,  it  has  enabled  me  to  fhed  tears,  when  my  foul 
wanted  fuch  rehef.  When  I  thought  that  benificent 
fource  exhaufted,  I  fat  dov/n  to  write,  and  it  flowed 
again.  My  obje£l  is  attained  \  my  defpair  has  fubfided 
iato  a  calm  and  gentle  forrow  I 

AUGUSTUS  VON  KOTZEBUE. 

Paris, 
Jan.  I,  1791.^ 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS, 

IN 

THE  AUTUMN  OF  1790. 


V  f  I  IEN  my  ill  ftate  of  health  drove  me  again  to  Pyr- 
mont  lafl  fummer,  to  drink  of  its  falutary  fpring,  my 
beloved  wife  being  then  in  the  fifth  month  of  her  preg- 
T.^Tic.jj  remained  at  home.  Every  letter  I  received  from 
her,  and  we  commonly  exchanged  three  or  four  letters 
in  the  week,  brought  the  moft  pleafmg  accounts  of  her 
health,  and  the  affurance  that  (he  had  no  wifh  but  for 
my  return.  How  ardently  I  participated  in  this  wifh 
may  be  eafily  imagined  !  I,  therefore,  eagerly  embraced 
the  firft  moment  when  it  was  pofiibleto  efcape  from  the 
medicinal  yoke,  and  flew  to  her  arms.  This  was  in  the 
beginning  of  September. 

Ourfirft  interview  was  at  Gotha.  She  came  thither 
to  meet  me.  My  tjranfport  at  beholding  her,  our  firll 
embrace,  the  heart-felt  joy  with  which  I  contemplated 
her  blooming  cheeks,  manifefting  pure  health  and  con- 
tent, the  animation  that  fparkled  from  her  eyes — how 
pref^Dt  are  all  thefe  ideas  to  my  imagination  !  How 


102  MY   FLIGHT   TO  PARIS. 

• 

does  my  fancy  love  to  dwell  upon  the  enchanting  images! 
Fain  would  my  pen  defcribe  them  in  equally  glowing 
colours  ! — but  words  are  unequal  to  the  taflc  !  Yet  eve- 
ry one  who  has  a  heart  can  imagine  them  all. 

Two  months  more  pafled  on.  I  faw,  without  alarm, 
the  moment  approach  when  I  was  to  be  prefented  with  a 
new  pledge  of  our  love,  fmce  no  reafon  for  alarm  then  ap- 
peared. I  did  all  th^t  laid  in  my  power  to  prevent  dan- 
ger :  I  perfuaded  my  Frederica  to  take  a  walk  with  me 
almoft  every  day,  in  the  beautiful  park  at  Weimar, 
which  was  indeed  her  favorite  refort.  How  have  we 
ilrolled  about  there  arm  in  arm,  in  fweet  convcrfation, 
building  caftles  in  the  air,  forming  conjedlures  on  the 
future,  reviewing  the  paft,  and  enjoying  the  prefent  I 
Sometimes  talking  of  our  abfent  friends,  amufmg  our- 
felves  with  fpeculations  on  \yhat  they  might  be  about  at 
that  moment,  what,  and  Vv'hen  they  would  v/rite  to  us, 
or  where  and  when  we  fliouid  fee  them  again. 

In  the  little  liut  made  of  the  bark  of  trees,  or  at  the 
waterfall,  or  upon  the  hill,  or  by  the  three  pillars,  or 
where  we  look  over  the  meadows  in  the  valley  as  upon  a 
ftage,  have  v.'e  often  ftccd  or  fat,  contemplating  the 
varied  beauties  around  us.  Oh,  may  the  fweeteft,  the 
moft  refrefhing  dew  fall  upon  ye  every  morning,  ye  trees 
and  flowers,  for  you  were  witneffes  of  my  happinefs  ? 
Ever  mayefc  thou  flourifli  and  look  gay,  thou  verdant 
turf,  for  thou  haft  been  prelFed  by  the  footfteps  of  my 
beloved  wife  !  How  would  fhe  laugh  when  our  V/illiam 
would  fometimes  ftand  upon  his  head,  and  fet  the  little 
dog  barking  with  comic  eagernefs  at  fo  unufual  a  fight  ? 


MY   FLIGHT   TO   PARIS.  103 

Never,  never,  will  a  happier  couple  enjoy  thy  charms, 
thou  lovely  fpot. 

Often,  too,  have  we  vifited  Belvedere  and  TiefTurth, 
country-feats  near  Weimar.  There  did  we  fit  under  a 
tree,  and  regale  upon  new  milk,  while  my  Frederica  re- 
joiced at  finding  the  weather  ftill  fo  warm  in  the  coun- 
try, that  although  in  the  month  of  0£lober,  we  could 
remain  out  in  the  air,  whereas  at  home  we  were  creeping 
to  the  fire.  Thefe  little  excurfions  were  always  fo  pleas- 
ant to  her,  that  in  every  the  mofl  minute  incident  flie 
found  a  fource  of  delight. 

About  a  month  before  her  confinement,  fiie  accompa- 
nied me  to  Leipfick  fair.  She  was  on  that  day  uncom- 
monly cheerful  and  animated,  and  at  our  return  home 
affared  me,  that  (he  had  never  in  her  life  enjoyed  any 
thing  of  the  kind  more  highly.  Oh,  what  greater 
delight  can  the  world  afford  than  to  have  contributed  to 
the  enjoyment  of  her  whom  we  love. 

Thus,  amid  a  conftant  reciprocation  of  pure  and  inno- 
cent happinefs,  did  the  hours  pafs  on,  till  the  moment 
approached  of  which  neither  of  us  entertained  the  leail 
apprehenfion.  My  Frederica  had  always  enjoyed  unin- 
terrupted health,  her  only  medicine  was  ftrawberries, 
and  never,  fmce  our  iibode  at  Weimar  had  the  apotheca- 
ry been  enriched  by  her  to  the  amount  of  a  fingle  dreyer. 

At  length,  on  the  eleventh  of  November,  fhe  was  fafe- 
ly  and  happily  delivered  of  a  daughter.  For  the  firft  three 
days  flie  was  remarkably  well,  was  all  life  and  animation, 
laughing  and  affuring  us  that  a  lying-in  was  a  mere  jol^e. 
Never,  fhc  faid,  had  fhe  beca  fo  well  j  never,  in  the  firil 


m 

lOf  MY   FLlCriT   TO  PAIIIS. 

three  days,  felt  a  like  appetite,  or  like  freedom  from  pain. 
In  fliort,  every  thing  feemed  to  promife  her  fpecdy  reco- 
very, and  the  little  cloud  which  mud  at  luch  a  period  in- 
evitably for  a  moment  darken  the  horizon  feemed  entirely 
difperfed.  Such  was  her  own  opinion  as  well  as  tliat  of  all 
around  her.  Ah  !  was  there  then  on  earth  a  mortal 
happier  than  I  !  The  whole  creation  feemed  mine,  and 
I  its  fovereign  ?  Who  could  fuppofe  that  tliefe  were  to 
be  the  laft  happy  days  of  my  life  ? 

Cn  the  fourteenth  (he  was  fomewhat  indifpofed.  We 
believed  this  to  be  a  matter  of  no  confequence,  only  occa- 
fior.ed  by  tlie  milk,  and  were  fatisfied  nature  relieves 
hcrfelf  in  various  ways.  On  the  fifieenth  fne  again  ap- 
peared quite  well.  Still  do  I  fee  her,  when,  after  hav- 
ing fpent  a  very  uneafy  night  with  the  idea  of  ]ier  indis- 
pofition,  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  I  ftole  foftly  into 
her  chamber,  and  crept  to  the  fide  of  her  bed,  full  of 
a'oxlety  to  learn  fonie  tidings  of  her.  She  ftretched  out 
her  arms  to  me,  and  raifing  herfelf  up,  affured  me  tliat 
fie  was  then  perfectly  free  from  complaint.  Oh  blefs- 
ed  affurance  !  once  more  my  m.ind  was  in  a  ftate  of  com- 
pofure.  I  aftenvards  retid  to  her  a  fcene  of  a  drama  I 
was  writing,  for  I  always  m.ade  her  unfophiilicatcd 
feelings  the  teft  by  which  I  proved  the  real  merit  or  de- 
merit of  my  works.  What  did  oot  draw  a  tear  from  her 
eyes,  I  blotted  out.  Alas  !  to  whofe  feelings  can  I  re- 
fer in  future  ! — My  tutelar  genius  has  forfaken  me  !— • 
my  iire  is  extinguifned  ! 

She  liftened  to  me  on  this  rr.orning  with  her  accuftom- 
ed  attention  arid  pieafure,  fhe  gave  her  opinion  upon  the 


MY   FLIGHT   TO  PARIS. 


105 


I  Work  as  ufual,  her  mind  never  appeared  more  clear  or 
'  acute.  Never  !  Oh,  never  will  the  piece  of  which  this 
fcene  was  a  part,  be  finiflied  !  I  fhould  ftart  back  with 
horror  were  the  fatal  pages  ever  again  to  fall  into  my 
hands !  The  bare  idea  of  adding  another  line  to  them 
gives  me  a  feeling  of  criminality.  I  could  not  for  all  the 
treafures  this  world  affords,  endure  to  hear  that  part  re- 
peated which  I  read  to  her.  The  recollcdion  of  her 
nod  of  approbation  as  I  proceeded,  would  harrow  up 
my  foul !  for,  oh  !  it  was  the  laft  approving  nod  I  ever 
can  receive  from  her. 

On  the  fixteenth  fhe  begii  to  complain  of  excefllve 
falntnefs,  and  from  this  day  her  fituation  conftantly 
grew  more  alarming.  I  became  extremely  anxious  about 
her,  and  called  in  the  advice  of  my  old  univerfity  friend 
the  chief  phyfician  Hufeland,  in  aid  of  Mr.  Buchholz, 
w  ho  had  hitherto  been  cur  fole  attendant.  The  disor- 
der rapidly  increafed,  her  fever  grew  hourly  higher,  and 
fhe  was  at  times  delirious.  Three  days,  which  to  mc 
feemed  like  an  eternity,  thus  paffed  on,  when  my  anxie- 
ty became  intolerable. 

On  the  twentieth,  I  haflened  early  in  the  morning  to 
Jena,  to  call  in  the  affiftance  of  the  celebrated  Dr.  Starke, 
who  was  my  intimate  friend,  and  of  whofe  medical  flcill 
I  had  the  higheft  opinion.  Thus  I  thought  nothing 
would  be  ntgkded  on  my  part  to  fave  a  life  fo 
dear — and  this  reflexion  has  been  my  fole  fource  of  con- 
folation  in  the  midH  of  my  defpair  at  her  lofs.  Heaven 
only  knows  whdt  I  fufiered  on  tliis  expedition.  My 


106 


MY    l-LIGliT  to  PARlSi 


fancy  could  not  forbear  to  dwell  on  the  raoft  dreadful 
images  which,  though  then  merely  ideal,  were,  alas  ! 
but  too  foon  to  be  realized. 

My  friend  was  fo  good  as  to  return  with  me  immediate- 
ly, and  I  vras  back  again  at  Weimar,  accompanied  by 
him,  within  five  hours  from  my  departure.  He  found  my 
Frederica  very  ill,  but  yet  did  not  think  her  cafe  by  any 
means  hopelefs,  and  I  once  more  began  to  breathe  free- 
ly. Cathartics  and  Diaphoretics  were  adminiftered. 
She  v/as  become  from  delirium  very  peevifh  and  obfti- 
nate,  nor  would  take  any  thing  but  from  my  hands* 
Oh,  v/ith  what  trembling  hands  did  I  reach  her  the 
glafs  with  the  medicine,  but  fhe  kiffed  m.e  vrhen  Hie  had 
t.^.ken  it,  and  my  foul  could  not  but  find  fome  confola- 
ticn  in  this  teilimony,  that  amid  the  frowardnefs  of  dif- 
cafe,  and  Vv-anderings  of  diflraftion,  her  aiTedlion  for  me 
rem.ained  pure  and  undimiiiifhed  as  ever. 

On  this  day,  my  drama  of  M'lfanthropy  end  Repen- 
tance v/as  performed.  I  mention  this  circumftance  only 
to  introduce  an  anecdote,  which,  even  amid  the  anguifh 
I  then  endured,  gave  me  a  fenfation  of  pleafure.  About 
eighty  of  the  (Indents  at  Jena  came  over  to  fee  the  play. 
It  was  the  ufuai  cuftom  of  thefe  young  men,  upon  fuch 
occnfions,  after  having  attended  the  theatre,  to  have 
jolly  fupper  together  fomewhere,  and  about  midiiigLt 
to  return  home,  not  without  much  noife,  and  hallowing 
and  clapping,  all  which  we  ufed  to  hear  in  full  perfec- 
tion, as  their  route  by  through  the  ftreet  v/here  I  Hved. 
On  this  night  alone,  not  a  fingle  carriage  or  horfe  pafTed 
my  houfe,  the  whole  party  went  quietly  out  of  town  by 


MY   FLIGHT  TO  PARTS, 


fdrtie  other  road,  that  they  might  not  difliirb  my  fufFer- 
ing  wife.  I  mentioned  this  circumftance  to  her  in  the 
morning — flie  feemed  pleafed  with  the  attention,  and  I 
take  this  opportunity  of  publicly  returning  my  grateful 
acknowledgment  to  the  gentlemen  for  it. 

On  the  twenty-firfl  and  twenty-fecond,  my  Frederic^i 
continued  much  the  fame,  I  fent  an  exprefs  both  morn- 
ings to  Dr.  Starke,  with  an  account  of  the  fituation  of 
his  patient.  I  fcarcely  ever  quitted  her  bedlidc,  and 
experienced  fon^e  fatisfa^lion  at  finding  that  fhe  did  not 
in  general  appear  to  have  any  appr  henfion  of  danger, 
Qncc  only  ssl  embraced  her,  and  laid  my  cheek  to  hers^ 
not  being  able  to  reftrain  my  tears,  flie  feemed  for  a  mo- 
ment to  be  Uruck  with  a  degree  of  anxious  folicitudco 
This,  however,  foon  yanifhed  again,  as  I  wiped  rny  eyes 
r.nd  endeavored  to  refume  a  countenance  of  hope  and  fe- 
rrnity.  Indeed,  her  dcliriuni  was  commonly  fo  ftrong, 
tliat  it  was  impGlTible  for  her  to  be  fenfible  of  her  fitua- 
tion. 

On  the  twenty-third  fhe  was  eafier  and  better.  This 
gave  me  very  flattering  hopes.  I  went  to  bed  much  more 
compofed,  and  for  the  firll  time  fince  her  illnefs  had  fome 
qniet  fleep.  But  the  next  morning  about  half  pafl  four, 
I  v/as  aw.ikened  by  the  maid  with  the  dreadful  intelli- 
gence that  her  miftrefs  was  much  v/orfc.  Oil  God  ! 
with  v/hat  horrible  feelings  did  I  fpring  out  of  bed  and 
haften  to  her  room  I  I  found  her  extremely  uncafy.  She 
complained  of  exceffive  pain  at  her  heart,  in  her  breaft, 
in  her  back,  and  particularly  ia  the  right  fide  about  the 


508 


}rlY   FLIGHT   TO  PARIS. 


Jungs,  She  breathed  very  fliortj  and  her  cheeks  v/ert 
extremely  flufhed.  For  fome  days,  I  had  obferved  this 
fymptom  with  great  anxiety,  but  the  day  before  had 
been  much  confoled  about  it. 

I  trembled  fo  that  I  could  fcarce!y  ftand,  for  I 
^thought  her  almofl  at  her  laft  hour,  and  knew  not  what 
u  as  to  be  done.  The  nurfe  and  maid  were  the  only 
people  in  the  room  with  me.  The  latter  I  difpatched 
to  Mr.  Eucholz,  who  \vas  fo  good  as  to  come  immedi- 
ately, and  foon  after  came  my  mother  and  Madame  Muf 
fxuSf  the  v»ndow  of  my  excellent  friend  the  profefTor, 
W e  rubbed  the  body  £)f  the  poor  fufferer  all  over  with 
flannel,  particularly  thofe  parts  whtre  fhe  complained 
moll  of  pain.  She  found  this  a  conliderable  relief,  the 
pain  abated,  and  fhe  affured  us  (he  was  much  eafier. 

Oh  how  was  my  heart,  in  thefe  arxicus  hours,  toITed 
^ibout  between  hcpcs  and  fears  !  Yet  fo  horrible  to  me 
was  the  idea  of  the  irreparable  lofs  I  was  about  to  fuf- 
tain,  that  how  much  foever  appearances  threatened  that 
event,  I  coiiM  notperfuade  myfelf  that  it  was  poflibleit 
(liould  take  place.  A  ftill,  fmall  voice,  feemed  contin- 
li'.illy  to  whifper  in  my  ear,  this  cannot  be  ! — this  afflicf 
t^on  were  too  great  to  be  endured  ! — fate  cannot  infli(?l 
upon  tliee  fo  fevere  a  misfortune  ! — She  may  deprive 
thee  of  thy  children,  of  thy  property,  but  afTuredly  fiie 
will  fpare  thy  wife  !  Ah  that  I  could  but  have  trafficked 
thus  with  fate  !— could  thus  have  purchafed  from  death 
his  devoted  vi6lim  ! 

The  phyfician  hoped,  that  the  alarming  fymptom 
which  had  appeared,  preceded  only  the  breaking  out  of 


MY  FI^IGHT  TO  PARIS. 


109 


an  eruption.  How  did  I  watch  my  beloved  wife  every 
moment,  to  examine  if  nothing  of  this  kind  was  to  be 
perceived  ;  when,  about  noon,  alter  repeated  difappoint- 
ments,  fome  fpots  at  laft  appeared.  My  tranfport  was 
inexpreflible.  I  ran  immediately  to  both  phylicians 
xnth  the  happy  tidings,  and  wept  hke  a  child.  They 
fliared  in  my  joyful  hopes,  and  conjured  me,  for  God*s 
lake,  upon  no  eonfideration  to  let  her  be  taken  out  of 
bed.  Hitherto  (he  had  frequently  got  up  to  have  her 
bed  made,  and  however  we  fometimes  wifhed  her  not  to 
be  diflurbed,  fhe  was  fo  extremely  defirous  of  it,  that 
it  v/as  fcarcely  pofTible  to  put  it  off.  I  now,  therefore, 
.never  ftirred  from  her  room,  fince  her  love  for  me  was 
fo  much  more  powerful  than  her  difeafe,  that  when  I 
tenderly  intreated,  ihe  even  gave  this  up.  At  night  I 
laid  down  in  the  room  with  my  clothes  on  ;  when  Mad- 
ame Mufasus,  who  upon  this  melancholy  occafion,  prov- 
ed herfelf  a  moft  iincere  friend,  promifed  faithfully, 
that  if  fhe  appeared  the  leaft  uneafy,  I  fliould  be  inftant- 
ly  awakened. 

At  five  o'clock  I  arofe.    I  received  the  joyful  inform- 
,ation,  that  my  poor  Frederica  had  pafTcd  a  quiet  night, 
and  I  found  her  eafy  when  I  went  to  her  bed-fide,  and 
kiffed  her  as  ufuaL    This  much  increafed  my  flattering 
hopes. 

Since  fne  appeared  fo  well,  Madame  Mufaeus  went 
home  early,  and  I  lighted  my  morning  pipe,  and  retir- 
ed for  a  fhort  time  to  another  room,  that  I  might  not 
difturb  my  wife  with  the  fumes  of  my  tobacco.  I  had 
pjpt  been  there  long,  before  the  maid  came  to  me  halt 
K 


110 


MY  ILIGil  r  TO  PAl^lS. 


breathlefs,  and  pale  with  horror,  bringing  a  handkerchief 
all  over  blood,  which  my  Frederica  had  thrown  up. 
What  a  new  fource  of  ahirm  and  anguiih  !  I  haftentd  to 
her,  and  found  her  with  a  Hicrt  cough  and  fpitting  blood, 
I  ran  with  all  poflible  fpeed  to  the  phyfician,  he  ordered 
her  a  compofing  draught,  which  I  gav^  her  ;  the  cough 
fcon  abated,  and  fhe  began  todcze. 

My  ftrength  was  almofl  exhaufted.  The  morning  lua 
fhone  on  the  oppofite  houfes,  the  air  v/as  warm,  the 
heavens  ferene.  I  refolved  to  avail  myfelf  of  my  Vvnfe's 
being  afleep  to  breath  a  little  frefii  air.  I  turned  my 
Heps  towards  Belvedere.  Were  I  to  defcribe^ail  my 
thoughts,  my  feehngs,  my  prayers,  my  hopes,  my  fear?, 
upon  this  v^alk,  they  would  fill  a  large  volume  of  them- 
felves.  Is  it  not  a  ftrcng  argument  in  favor  of  the  im- 
mortality of  the  foul,  that  our  thoughts  and  feehngs  are 
not  confined  by  time  ?  That  they  pals  with  fuch  rapidi- 
ty, that  a  fingle  moment  fuffices  to  revolve  in  idea  whut 
would  occupy  years  in  atlion  ?  That  no  man  can  fay  fuch 
and  fuch  a  portion  of  thoughts  fhall  pafs  in  my  mind  in 
fuch  a  number  of  minutes,  but  that  the  afts  of  ages  are 
involuntarily  compreffed  together  in  one  momentary  per- 
ception, and  yet  appear  as  clear  to  the  mind  as  though 
cxery  objeft,  every  circumftance,  were  embodied  before 
the  eyes  ?  What  then  can  he  this  principle,  that  re- 
quires neither  fpace  nor  tiine  for  its  operations,  yet  works 
fo  all-comprehenfively  within  us  ?  Can  it  be  aught  but 
fpirit  ? 

Powerful  are  the  charmiS  of  nature.  Even  on  this 
av.-f. J  dry  her  enchantments  fur  a  moment  rngrciTed  my 


I 

MV  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS.  Ill 


{enies,  and  lulled  my  anguifli  to  reft.  The  warm  ferene 
funfhine  afnmilating  itfelf  with  what  it  found  ccngenirJ  in 
my  bofom,  fome  rays  of  reviving  hope,  they  for  a  while, 
by  their  combined  power,  fupprefied  the  tumults  that 
raged  there.  "  ^h,^'  I  fuddenly  exclaimed  aloud,  "  ali 
"  fwiliygtbe  <weU  !  !  Fancy  fupported  this  blefTed  idea, 
and  raifed  within  me  a  crowd  of  tranfporting  images. 
I  faw  the  bloom  of  health  once  more  fpread  itfelf  over 
the  cheeks  of  my  beloved  Frederica.  I  faw  her  walk- 
ing up  and  down  the  room,  fomewhat  weak  indeed,  but 
fupported  by  my  arm,  apprehenfive  of  no  farther  danger. 
I  fought  out  for  her  the  beft  old  Rhenilh  wine  that 
could  be  procured,  omitted  nothing  that  might  con- 
tribute to  her  entire  rciftoration,  and  v%'hen  this  anxioufiy 
d^fired  obje6l  was  finally  attained,  I  thought  of  folemni- 
zing  a  little  feilival  to  commemorate  the  blefled  event. 
My  eldefl  boy  I  determined  fnould  learn  a  poem  by 
heart,  two  orphan  children  fnould  be  clothed,  and  a 
circle  of  fele£t  friends  invited.  After  dinner  as  we  were 
fitting  round  the  table,  a  band  of  mufic  Hiould  ftrike 
up  in  the  next  room,  Lord  God,  ^Lve  pra'ife  thse  I  "When 
we,  filling  our  glaffes,  and  raifing  them  up  towards 
heaven,  I  with  my  other  hand  round  the  neck  of  my  be- 
loved wife,  would  fing  in  chorus,  Lord  God,  ive pratfe 
thee  ! 

Oh  flattering  fancy  !  for  one  moment  didfl  thou  here 
make  me  happy  I  It  was  a  drop  of  cordial  to  enable  me 
to  ftruggle  with  new  forrow  ! 


112 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS, 


Amid  thefe  nlufmgs,  I  infenfibly  reached  the  Caflle 
of  Belvedere,  about  half  an  hour's  walk  from  Weimar.- 
I  bought  a  nofegay  for  my  wife,  and  a  rofe  bufti  in  a 
pot,  for  fhe  was  always  very  fond  of  flowers.  The 
nofegay  I  carried  home  myfdf.  I  reached  my 
houfe  about  half  paft  one,  when  I  found  my  Frc- 
derica  ftill  afleep,  nor  hud  ftie  coughed  during  the  whole 
of  my  abfence.  About  two  o'clock  fhe  awoke  :  I  gave 
her  the  flowers  ;  flie  feemed  pleafed  with  them,  but  it 
was  only  a  momentary  pleafure,  fhe  foon  relapfed  into 
her  accuflomed  indifference  to  every  thing.  The  erup- 
tion meanwhile  continued,  and  this  kept  my  hopes  flill 
alive.  But  in  the  afternoon  the  cough  and  fpitting  of 
blood  returned,  and  continued  for  a  long  time.  In  the 
evening  it  abated,  yet  fhe  breathed  very  fhort,  and  fcarce- 
ly  knew  any  body.  Leeches  were  applied  below  her 
right  breafl,  but  flie  did  not  appear  to  feel  them.  The 
rofe-bufh  I  had  bought  in  the  morning  was  brought  in, 
and  placed  by  her  bedfide,  but  fhe  paid  no  attention  to 
it.  I  am  filent  as  to  my  own  fituation  ;  it  may  be  con- 
ceived, it  cannot  be  defcribed. 

About  ten  o'clock  fae  feemed  to  be  in  the  lail  agonies. 
Her  throat  rattled,  her  eyes  were  fixed,  and  the  phyfi- 
cian  as  well  as  myfelf,  thought  there  was  every  fymptom 
of  approaching  death.  My  friends  intreated  me  not  to 
ftay,  and  fee  her  die  ;  and  reminded  me  that  I  owed  to 
our  children  the  prefervation  of  my  life  and  fenfes.  I 
was  fo  flupified,  that  I  knew  not  what  I  did.  I  took 
leave  of  my  wife,  who  neither  heard  or  faw  me.  Only 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


for  one  moment,  when  I  threw  myfelf  upon  her,  and 
prefled  my  burning  lips  to  hers,  did  fne  feem  in  fome  de- 
gree fenfiWe,  and  returned  my  kifs  very  faintly.  This 
token  of  her  love  gave  me  the  fudden  relief  of  tears, 
they  ftreamed  down  my  cheeks  :  I  kifTed  her  again  and 
again,  and  rufhed  out  of  the  room,  in  the  fatal  convic- 
tion that  thefe  were  the  laft  kifTes  I  ever  (hould  give  this 
beloved  wife. 

I  was  folicited  to  leave  the  houfe,  but  while  any  hopes 
of  her  life  remained  that  was  impolilble.  I  threw  myfelf 
upon  a  bed  in  another  apartment,  where  I  continued  in 
a  ftate  of  mind  little  fhort  of  diftradlion.  My  mother  re- 
mained in  the  room  with  my  Frederica. 

How  fhall  I  defcribe  this  long  and  miferable  night  1 
Every  moment  I  expe<5led  to  receive  the  lafl  fatal  tidings. 
As  often  as  I  heard  the  door  of  my  poor  wife's  chamber 
open,  my  heart  was  ready  to  beat  through  my  breaft, 
and  all  my  limbs  ihook — I  expedled  it  to  be  the  melfen- 
ger  of  death.  About  midnight  I  heard  the  found  of 
coffee  grinding  in  the  kitche:i.  Oh  God  !  this  feemed 
an  affurance  that  all  was  over,  that  thofe  who  v/ere 
watching  with  her  had  no  other  objeft  of  attention  re- 
maining but  themfelves. 

A  thoufand  times  had  I  refolved  to  go  and  fatiufy  my- 
felf upon  this  dreadful  fubjedl,  but  aiiguiih  held  me  back ; 
the  idea  of  feeing  her  corpfe,  the  corpfe  of  my  Frederi- 
ca, was  perfe6l  agony.  Still,  ftill,  I  thought,  a  ray  of 
hope  remains  in  my  bofom,  fhall  I  deprive  myfelf  of  that 
by  rufhing  on  a  dreadful  certainty  ?  Aqiid  thefe  horrid 


114 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


reflexions,  I  continued  tofiing  on  the  bed,  experiencing 
torments  not  to  be  exceeded  by  thofc  of  hell.  No  !  the 
fenfations  of  a  criminal  whom  the  following  morning  is 
to  lead  to  execution,  cannot  be  half  fo  dreadful. 

Yet  one  more  tranfient  interval  of  hope  was  in  ftore 
for  me.  Sometimes  the  lamp  in  my  room  appeared  near- 
ly extinguiflied,  and  then  again  quickly  burned  bright 
and  clear.  This  feemed  a  type  of  human  life,  and  I 
thought  that  my  beloved  wife  might  revive  again  as  the 
ilame  of  the  lamp. 

Four  o'clock  had  juft  ftruck,  when  I  heard  the  door 
of  the  fick  chamber  open,  and  my  mother's  fcotfteps  ap- 
proaching mine.  My  fenfes  were  nearly  gone  :  1  could 
hear  my  heart  beat.  I  looked  wildly  at  her  as  fhe  en- 
tered— "  She  is  Jl'iU ali've,^''  were  the  firft  words  fhe  fpoke. 
What  a  balfam  were  they  to  my  v/ounded  foul !  I  burfl 
into  a  fhower  of  heait-relieving  tears.  I  had  nc  pcv^'er 
of  fpeech — I  could  not  all<:  a  fingle  queilion,  but  my  mo- 
ther told  me  with  a  countenance  of  confolation,  that  im- 
mediately after  midnight,  the  dreadful  fituation  in  which 
I  left  my  wife  began  to  am.end  ;  fhe  became  eafy,  and 
had  not  coughed  fuice  ;  fhe  now  knew  .every  body,  and 
had  aficed  feveral  times  for  me.  With  one  fpring  I 
was  in  her  arms.  Oh  God,  what  a  blelTed  change  ! — 
She  knew  me,  fne  fmiled,  (he  returned  my  kifles,  and 
faid  fweetly,  /  can  kifs  thee  fiow  joyfully  :  aiuhUe  ago  It 
was  painful  to  me  ! — She  was  perfe6ily  rational,  and 
afTured  me  fhe  found  herfelf  better.  I  brought  her  the 
rofe-bufn  ;  fhe  fecmed  highly  delighted,  and  even  reach- 
ed  out  her  head  to  fmell  to  it. 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


115 


My  tranfport  was  unbounded,  and  I  inwardly  thank- 
ed God  for  his  mercy  with  an  ardor  feldom  perhaps  ex- 
perienced. I  confidered  my  wife  as  faved.  I  thought 
within  myfelf  whatever  has  afcended  to  the  utmoU 
height  it  can  reach,  muft  inevitably  fall  again.  My 
Frederica's  diforder  had  laft  night  reached  that  fummit, 
and  now  is  in  its  defcent.  I  waited  with  impatience  the 
dawning  of  day,  when  I  haftened  to  the  phyficia?i,  who 
was  aftonilhed  beyond  meafure  to  hear  me  fay.  My  nvife 
is  Jl'ill  alive.  He  recounted  over  all  the  fymptoms  of 
approaching  death  that  had  appeared  the  preceding 
evening  ;  and  fmce  thefe  had  fubfided,  he  ventured  to 
hope  with  me,  that  the  crifis  was  paft,  and  (he  might 
yet  be  reftored. 

He  ordered  her  fome  medicines,  with  which  I  will 
own  I  v/as  not  fatisfied,  fmce  I  could  not  help  appre- 
hending that  there  was  great  danger  of  the  exertion  of 
taking  them  bringing  on  again  the  cough  and  fpitting  of 
blocd.  Bat  fmce  they  were  recommended  by  both  phy- 
ficians,  and  I  had  great  refpeft  for  their  judgment,  I 
yielded  my  own  opinion,  and  had  them  prepared.  But 
alas  !  what  I  had  feared  adually  enfued  :  fhe  immedi- 
ately began  again  to  cough.  I  haftened  once  more  to 
the  phyficians,  though  with  much  lefs  fanguine  feehngs 
than  before,  and  told  them  what  had  happened,  M'hen 
they  defired  .that  all  attempts  at  medicine  might  be  re- 
linquifhed. 

Aias  !  never  fhall  I  be  able  to  banifh  the  dreadful 
idea,  that  had  fhe  been  fufFered  to  remain  quiet  that 


116 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS 


morning,  and  not* been  difturbed  in  this  way,  her  youth 
and  cKcellent  conftitution  might  at  length  have  worn  out 
her  difeafe.  Yet  let  it  not  be  thought  that  I  mean  to 
call  a  refiedion  upon  cur  two  v/orthy  phyficians.  I  am 
confident  that  they  were  fcarceiy  lefs  anxious  than  my- 
fslf,  to  fave  a  lite  fo  dear  to  us  all ;  and  I  doubt  not 
were  actuated  by  the  fear  of  omitting  any  thing  at  fo  im- 
pcrtar.t  a  moment,  that  had  the  remotefl  chance  of 
proving  beneficial.  Bat  when  a  houfe  is  burnt  down, 
people  are  very  apt  to  fay,  that  a  pail  of  water  thrown 
earlier  on  this  or  that  fpct,  might  have  faved  the  whole 
edifice.  The  world  muft  not  be  fevere  with  a  man  under 
misfortune. 

I  fent  once  more  to  Jena,  to  beg  my  friend  Dr. 
Starke*s  attendance.  I  charged  the  fervant  to  make 
the  utmoft  poffible  hafte,  and  to  return  inftantly  with 
the  Doflor.  The  honeft  fellow,  who  loved  his  miftrefs 
fincerely,  and  who,  indeed,  did  not  love  her  ?  was  gone 
no  more  than  three  hours  and  a  half.  He  brought  me  a 
note  from  Dr.  Starke,  with  a  promife  that  he  would  be 
with  me  himfelf  in  the  afternoon. 

It  was  now  noon.  Exhaulled  with  fatigue  and  an- 
guifh,  I  had  laid  down  on  the  fopha,  and  endeavored  to 
ileep  ;  but  v/hen  I  heard  the  found  of  the  horfe  gallop- 
ing along  the  ftreet,  I  fprang  up,  and  haftened  with  the 
note  into  the  fick  chamber.  There  I  found  the  fame 
fymptoms  of  approaching  death  as  the  evening  before, 
the  fame  rattling  in  the  throat,  the  fame  fixed  glare  of 
the  eyes,  and  the  fame  defpair  in  the  countenances  of  all 


MY    FLIGHT   TO  PARISi 


HI 


k'he  attendants.  The  looks  of  the  phyfician,  too,  plainly 
Confeffed  that  his  art  could  do  no  more  for  her. 

Ah  !  he  could  not !— and  God  would  not !  Why  ha 
thus  tore  afunder  one  of  the  happieft  couples  that  ever 
were  united  !  Why  he  feparated  two  fouls  that  only  vvifii- 
cd  to  live  for  each  other  !  Into  thofe  things  we  are  for- 
bidden to  enquire  ! — But  oh,  let  not  any  one  impute  it 
to  me  as  a  fin  that  I  complain  ! — The  Lord  gave  her  to 
me  !  Tte  Lord  hath  taken  her  away  ! — I  am  no  diffem- 
bler — I  cannot  add,  BlefTed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord. 

Of  what  pafTed  in  this  and  the*  following  hours  I  havd 
but  a  eonfufed  recolleftion.  How  I  kiffed  her  for  the 
laft  time,  without  even  receiving  a  hke  faint  return  as 
the  evening  before  ;  how  I  rufhed  out  of  the  room,  una- 
ble to  fupport  the  idea  of  beholding  her  laft  ftruggles  ; 
how  I  ran  to  the  houfe  of  a  friend  a  fev/  doors  oSF,  and 
what  horrible  feelings  there  rent  my  bofom— all,  all 
thefe  appear  to  me  as  the  harralTing  images  of  fome  fear- 
ful dream. 

Not  many  days  before  I  had  faid  to  tliis  friend,  that 
I  was  confident  my  fenfes  never  could  fuppori:  the  lofg 
of  my  wife  ;  and  earneftly  entreated  him,  (hould  this 
dreadful  cataftrophe  aftually  take  place,  to  think  and 
to  a£l  for  me,  and  endeavour  for  the  fake  of  my  poor 
motherlefs  infants,  if  poffible,  to  refcue  from  defpair  a 
father  who  had  himfeif  ftood  for  three  years  upon  the 
brink  of  the  grave.  I  charged  him,  when  the  laft  fatal 
ftroke  fhould  be  over,  inftantly  to  order  a  chaife,  and 
fly  with  me,  no  matter  whither,  only  to  take  me  from 


il8  MY   FLIGHT   TO  PARIS- 

the  pluce  that  had  been  the  fcene  cf  all  my  forrows — £roiA 
the  place  where  every  joy  liiuft  be  buried  in  the  grave  cf 
my  deceafed  v»'ife.  He  proinifed  to  comply  with  ir.y  re* 
queft,  and  kept  his  word.  He  went  himfelf  to  my  houfcj 
my  wife  had  breathed  her  laft,  and  he  fenfe  inftantly  to 
the  poU. 

I  repeat  it,  that  I  have  no  clear  idea  of  my  own  feel- 
ings. My  brain  was  all  confufion  ;  overpowered  with 
unguifh,  I  could  not  remain  a  moment  in  the  fame  fpot ; 
every  place  fecmcd  too  confined  for  my  burfting  bofom  j 
no  tears  came  to  my  relief ;  I  ran  half  frantic  into  the 
ftreet,  a  bleak  north  wind  Hew  diredlly  threw  it ;  yet 
even  there  I  felt  as  in  a  burning  furnace. 

I  told  my  friend  I  would  wait  fcr  him  at  the  gate  cf 
the  town  ;  and  thither  I  hallencd,  though  I  fcarcely 
know  myfclf  how  I  reached  it ;  neither  am  I  certain 
whether  by  the  way  I  met  any  perfon  with  wh6m  I  was 
acquainted.  I  only  recollect,  fmce  of  this  m.y  anguifh 
reminded  nie,  feeing  the  polliuion  v^-ho  a  few  v»-ecks  be- 
fore had  d£vja  my  Vv'ife  and  me  to  Leipf.ck. 

I  remdned  for  two  hours  vrithoiit  the  gate,  accompa- 
nied only  by  my  own  anguilh  and  diilra6tion.  The 
\veather  was  cold,  rainy  and  ftormy,  but  I  was  infenfible 
to  it*  I  walked  up  and  down  by  the  fide  of  a  ditch,  en- 
deavouring to  ccllecl  my  fcattered  fenfes,  and  to  reReit 
calmly  upon  my  fituaticn,  but  it  was  impoffible.  Once 
or  twice  a  fcv/  tears  came  to  mj  relief,  but  they  were 
few.    Heaven  was  fearing  of  this  lenient  balm. 

After  a  while,  r.n  old  man  in  a  foldier's  unifcrm. 


MY    r  LIGHT   TO  PARIS. 


110 


probably  a  penfioner  of  the  neighbouring  hofpital, 
whofe  attention,  I  fuppofe,  had  been  excited  by  the 
wildnefs  of  my  appearance,  came  up  to  me^  and  ailced  if 
I  v.-as  ill.  I  anfwercd,  Yes,  and  pafied  on.  Ah! 
that's  plainly  enough  to  be  feen  /"  I  could  hear  him  fay  in 
a  compaffionate  tone,  as  I  continued  wallcing  forwards^ 
I  know  not  whether  it  was  this  appearance  of  participa- 
tion in  my  forrow  that  gave  a  new  turn  to  my  feelings, 
'put  I  burlt  into  tears,  and  wept  violently  for  fome  vsxyor- 
utes ;  yet  this  was  foon  paft,  and  I  relapfed  into  my 
former  Hate  of  gloomy  ftupefa6lion. 

At  length,  towards  evening,  I  faw  my  own  travelling 
carriage  approach,  the  fame  carriage  into  which  I  had  fo 
often  handed  m.y  Frederica  ;  in  which  I  had  enjoyed  fo 
many  happy  hours  by  her  fide.  I  got  hallily  into  it,  the 
little  dog  which  had  been  my  wife's  favorite  was  there, 
and  jumped  upon  me,  wagging  his  tail.  Oh  God  1  what 
painful  recollections  did  it  call  into  my  mind.  Every 
thing  in  the  carriage  bore  fome  reference  to  my  Frede- 
rica. In  one  pocket  was  a  ftain  made  by  a  bottle  of  med- 
icine, which  fhe  had  cnce  broke.  Here  was  a  needle 
vvith  which  fhe  had  been  at  work  :  ^here  the  mark  of 
pov/der  from  her  hair :  and  yet  what  was  abfent  re- 
minded me  of  her  far  more  painfully  than  what  was 
prefent.  At  our  departure  from  Reval,  I  had  a  couple 
of  imall  piilov;s  made,  covered  with  leather,  to  reft  our 
\eads  again  (I  cn  the  journey.  On  thefe  my  wife  had 
Iain  during  her  illnefs,  as  fhe  found  the  pillows  belong- 
i:;'T  to  the  bed  too  vrarrn — on  thefe  fhe  died  ! 


?20 


MY    FLIGHT   TO  PARI^. 


We  proceeded  onwards,  the  clouds  began  to  difperfe, 
and  the  moon  appeared.  Not  a  word  was  fpoken.  My 
friend  felt  feniibly,  that  at  prefent,  any  attempts  to  con- 
fole  me  were  vain,  he  was  filent  therefore,  and  in  my 
heart  I  acknowledged  this  bb  an  obligation.  I  fixed  my 
eyes  fteadily  upon  the  clouds,  which  the  wind  blew  into 
a  thoufand  varied  forms,  at  firft  only  with  a  vacant 
ftare,  but  after  a  while  they  caught  my  attention,  and 
jny  fancy  found  a  melancholy  gratification  in  likening 
them  to  fuch  images  as  were  moft  accordant  with  the 
fituation  of  my  foul.  In  one,  I  faw  a  coffin,  in  ano- 
ther, a  funeral  proceflion,  in  another,  a  hat,  with  a  long 
crape  hatband.  I  found  in  the  heavens  whatever  I 
fought :  never  was  my  imagination  fo  fertile  in  forming 
refemblances.  At  length  about  eight  o'clock  we  ar- 
rived at  Erfurth. 

Soon  after  I  had  left  my  houfe.  Dr.  Starke  arrived,  and 
opened  a  vein  in  my  poor  Frederica's  arm,  but  in  vain.. 
Nothing  could  fnatch  from  the  grafp  of  death  the 
fv/ceteft,  gentleft  viftim  he  ever  feized.  For  the  firfl; 
time  fmce  our  union  did  Ihe  give  me  an  uneafy  fenfation 
^flie  died! 

I  was  afterv/ards  informed  by  letter,  that  the  fever 
ocCafioned  by  the  milk  had  fallen  upon  her  lungs,  and 
was  the  ono-'m  of  her  diforder.  A  thoufaiid  tormenting 
■  reflections  upon  this  fubjecl  opprefs  my  heart.  It  is 
true,  I  do  not  doubt  that  my  Frederica  now  bears  tes- 
timony to  our  great  Judge,  that  I  did  every  thing  the 
ffndereft  love  could  fuggcft  to  fare  her ;  yet  I  cannof. 


MY    FLIGHT    TO  PART5. 


121 


ftiake  off  the  idea,  that  if  this  or  that  thing  had  been 
done  or  omitted,  fhe  might  yet  have  been  alive  ;  fo  often 
does  the  refcue  or  deftru6lion  of  a  man  hang  upon  a  fmgic 
thread — upon  fome  accident  apparently  of  the  moft  tri- 
fling or  infignificant  nature. 

I  am  eternally  haunted  by  the  recollection,  that  in 
the  laft  days  of  her  illnefs,  my  beloved  wife  called  very 
often,  it  is  true,  only  amid  the  wanderings  of  delirium, 
for  the  Rujftan  medicine.  She  frequently  endeavored  to 
explain  herfelf  more  fully,  and  ufed  every  poflible  effort 
to  make  me  underftand  what  fhe  meant,  yet  never  could 
think  of  the  right  name  :  flie  could  only  fay  the  Rujfian 
medicine.  I  perplexed  myfelf  in  vain  at  the  time  to  con- 
ceive what  it  was  on  which  her  diftempered  fancy  dwelt  ; 
but  it  has  flnce  occurred  to  me  that  fhe  doubtlefs  referred 
to  a  powder  in  very  common  ufe  in  our  country  ;  which, 
though  the  phyficians  may  declaim  againft  it,  and  con- 
fider  it  as  quackery,  has  moft:  certainly  often  achieved 
wonders.  And  fmce  I  believe  we  owe  the  life  of  a  fon, 
given  over  by  the  phyficians,  to  this  powder,  it  is  very 
probable  that  his  poor  mother  might  feel  confidence  in  its 
power  to  reftore  her  alfo.  Oh  Heaven  !  who  knows 
what  might  have  been  the  effeft  of  this  powder*s  being 
adminiftered  on  that  laft  fatal  day,  during  the  fhort  in- 
terval when  her  breath  was  eafy  and  her  cough  quiet ! 
But  how  fliould  I  have  affumed  courage  to  recommend 
it,  fince,  if  ftie  had  then  died,  I  had  confidered  myfelf 
as  her  murderer,  and  been  even  more  wretched  than  at 
prefent  ? 


MY    FLIGHT    T  0    I'  A  HIS 


Ala^. !  it  was  determined  by  a  higher  than  mcrccil  pc v/- 
er,  that  thus  it  fnould  be  and  no  othervvife.  The  great 
T\"heel  that  guides  our  dcftimes  is  not  to  be  flopped  by  a 
blade  of  ftubble.  She  is  dead  !  and  all  my  hopes  and 
Joys  died  with  h^r  ! — I  lock  for  no  more  happinefs  on 
this  fide  the  grave  !  I  may  yet  perhaps  fometimes  laugh, 
but  my  heart  will  never  more  be  really  cheerful  !  Many 
years  may  yet  pafs  ere  1  fliall  be  re- united  to  the  only 
treafiire  of  my  foul — I  may  drag  on  a  procrallinated  cx- 
ilicr.cc,  but  never  can  I  really  live,  Irnce  I  am  deorived 
of  the  better  part  of  mj  hfe^s  fupport  ! — What  renr.ains 
of  Txie  will  only  hope,  will  only  figh  for  the  time  of  its 
re-union  to  this  perifhed  half,  and  the  fole  confolation 
my  forrows  can  ever  know,  will  be  in  ccnllaiitly  locking 
forward  to  that  blcfled  period. 

TJica  pic'js  fcul,  bclov'd,  adcrM, 

Oh  drav/  me  in  love's  bands  tcwVd  t^ee! 

Drav/  ire  to  thy  heart,  fv,  eet  angel, 
That  I  an  ai-^tl  tec  nisy  be  ! 


Before  I  proceed  farther  I  mull  beg  a  few  minutes 
indulgence  of  m.y  readers,  while  I  enter  on  fome  defence 
of  m.y  behaviour  upon  this  fatal  occaficn.  My  friends 
have  tormented  m.e  incefiantly  with  reproache's  for  fo 
haftily  quitting  m.y  home,  m.y  fannly,  my  connexions. 
I  Paould  have  remained  at  Weimar  they  fay.  But  why  ? 
This  is  aquellion  they  cannot  anfwcr.  Letter  after  let- 
ter followed  m.e  on  my  flight,  they  were  Kill  in  the  fam..- 
flory.    Cne  f^id,  "  Wc  all  hope,  that  when  ycur  fbr 


^^lY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


123 


row  is  abated  by  time,  you  will  think  more  reafonably 
"  upon  the  fubjcct,  and  return  amon^  ug."  Anotiier 
f  :iv3,  "  You  owe  it  to  your  own  character  fpeedily  t.j 
return,  elfs  it  will  be  believed  that  you  only  llcd  to 
banifii  every  melancholy  objcdl,  every  unplcafant  re- 
coUefllon  from  within  the  circle  of  your  own  obferv.i- 
'*  tion.* 

I'rom  my  foul  I  deted  fuch  fcannings  of  the  condad 
of  others!  iuc\\  They  fay  !  zxidiThey  belis've  I  xior  ^:.\'X 
I  concern  myfelf  about  them  as  long  as  my  own  coii- 
fcience  does  not  unite  her  voice  with  that  of  the  public. 
But  never  was  my  aflonifhment  greater  than  at  hearing 
of  thefc  cenfures,  for  never  w:i3  any  thing  mere  unex- 
pefted. 

And  what  fhould  I  do  at  Weimar  ? — ^Who  will  anfwer 
rr.c  this  quellioa  \ — Who  under  Hke  circumflances,  would 
not  have  a£led  as  I  did  ? — Who  would  not  have  flown 

the  place  that  liad  proved  the  grave  of  all  his  peace  and 
happlncfs^  when  bound  by  no  particular  ccnne6lion  or 

*  They  muiPihave  very  little  heart  them  feives  who  could  thus 
arraigi  Kotzebue's  condudl.  \7ho  among  us  {hall  pretend  to 
difl.ue  to  another  the  exin5l  meafure  of  afHidion  proper  to  be 
f'it  oa  the  lofs  of  a  tenderly  beloved  friend,  or  the  manner  in 
which  thit  aQi^lioii  fiiould  operate  upon  the  heart.  Endiefs  as 
is  the  variety  in  the  mind  of  man,  fo  endlefs  muil  be  the  variety 
cf  ways  iav/hich  it  Vv'ill  be  affected  by  any  fevere  fhock  ;  and 
becaufo  one  perfoa  has  power  to  controul  his  feelings  on  fuch  oc- 
cafioas,  he  has  no  r'.ght  to  judge  another  whofe  mind  is  different- 
ly conllitutei.  Who  would  condemn  a  madman,  for  fancyinj]^ 
h  mf^if  a  king  or  an  empeior  ?  and  one  overpowered  by  excefs  of 
a  »^;u;h,  is,  for  the  time,  no  more  refponfible  for  his  fentiments 
and  afiions,  than  he  who,  on  accoiint  of  his  coni'irmed  infanity, 
is  chained  in  a  lunatic  hofpital.  Such  a  man  is  an  object  of  com- 
pvtflion  and  fympathy,  not  of  cenlure.  Tlie  reader  will  pardon 
t:::fe  cbfsrvatior.s.  Translatoh., 


124  MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


obligation  to  remain  in  it  '  Oh,  how  I  pity  the  wretch- 
ed mortal  who  perhaps  is  conflrained  by  fome  office,  or 
Itill  worfe,  by  his  poverty,  to  remain  on  the  fpot  of 
earth  that  entombs  the  objeft  of  his  fondell  love  !  I  pity 
him,  and  return  thanks  to  heaven  that  fevere  as  is  my 
lot,  I  am  not  doomed  to  fuch  aggravated  diftrefs. 

I  have  long  enjoyed  an  office  under  the  Emprefs  of 
Ruffia.  This  magnanimous  woman,  even  in  the  midft 
of  her  battles  and  viftories,  could  condefcend  to  pay 
attention  to  an  unfortunate  fervant,  whofe  health  had 
long  been  materially  injured  by  the  cold  and  damp  cli- 
mate upon  the  Hiores  of  the  Baltic  Sea.  She  allowed 
me  a  year's  abfence  for  my  recovery.  I  fpent  the  fum- 
mer  at  the  baths,  and  in  the  autumn  returned  of  my 
own  free  choice  to  Weimar,  in  the  hope  of  fpending  a 
happy  winter  with  my  Frederica,  in  the  bofom  of  my 
family.  Happy  this  winter  cannot  now  be,  and  of  all 
places  Weimar  is  the  lad  in  which  I  can  hope  for  the 
reftoration  of  my  loft  health. 

Once  more,  then,  why  fliould  I  return  thither  ?  What 
ihould  I  do  there  ? — Oh,  I  know  but  too  well  how  my 
time  would  be  pafied  !  The  church-yard  would  be  my 
daily  refort,  my  principal  abode.  There,  in  a  vault, 
lie  the  remains  of  my  father,  whom  indeed  I  never 
knew,  fince  I  was  but  juft  born  when  he  died  ;  but 
•whofe  memory,  from  the  chara6ler  I  have  uniformly 
heard  of  him,  I  tenderly  love  and  refpeft.  There,  by 
the  fide  of  that  wall,  flumbers  the  corpfe  of  the  worthy 
Mufseus.  Oh,  my  good,  my  beloved  friend,  hadft  thou 
been  living,  thou  hadft  not  judged  thy  pupil  fo  feverely  ! 


MY  FX^IG'HT  TO  PARIS. 


125 


And  iaft  of  all  !  oh  mo  ft  fatal  of  all ! — tliere  is  now  the 
grave  of  my  only  treafure,  of  the  bed,  the  moll  amia- 
ble, the  moil  a[i«26lionate  of  wives.  There  refl  the  liap- 
piiiefs  of  my  mortal,  the  hope  of  my  immortal  exiflence  ? 
My  father,  my  tutor,  my  wife,  all,  all  are  enflirined 
within  tlie  walls  of  that  church-yard  ;  is  that,  then,  a 
place  for  the  re-cHabhniment  of  a  debihtated  frame,  and 
ftiattercd  nerves,  or  for  refcoring  to  its  proper  toiie,  a 
mind  tciTed  about  with  a  tempefl  of  agony? 

"  There  is  no  occafion  to  go  thither,"  methinks  I 
hear  obfcrr^d  by  fome  fage,  cold-blooded,  infenfible 
hearts. 

"Would  it  be  in  my  power  to  coatroul  myfelf  I 
aflc.  Could  reafon  or  friendlhip  reflrain  me  ?  Or,  if  I 
"  did  put  fuch  a  conllraint  upon  my  feelings,  vvould 
"  that  diminiPxi  my  agony  ?  or  would  iiot  this  conflant 
"  flruggle  ralhcr  prove  a  perpetual  aggravation  of  it 
And,  perhaps,  all  I  fiiculd  gain  at  lafi  by  f ach  coniiicls 
woald  be  the  fncerir.g  appellation  of  a  feritimental  fool. 

And  fj.ppofing  I  abilain  from  going  to  the  church- 
yard, whither  eife  fliould  I  go  ?  Is  there  a  fpot  in  Wei- 
mar or  its  neigliborhood  that  I  have  not  travel  led  .vita  my 
Frederica,  and  fhall  I  now  traverfe  them  alone  ?  Shall 
I  take  a  v/alk  in  the  park  ?  That  was  my  Fredcrica'3 
favorite  ref::rt  ;  not  a  foot  of  ground  is  tlure  Vv-ithin  its 
extenfive  circuit  ever  which  I  have  not  wand-red  with 
her  on  my  arm,  not  a  bei:ch  0:1  v;liich  v/e  l^a  /e  not  fat 
together,  not  a  profped  th":.t  v/e  ha-e  not  adin'red  to- 
gether !  Thzre,  at  the  river,  hare  "-e  Li  the  M.i.o/y 
.    L  2 


126  MY   FLIGHT   TO  PARIS. 


ducks,  fwung  our  little  William  in  the  fwing  between 
the  trees,  or  at  the  bridge  bought  fifh  out  of  the  trunks  j 
every  where  I  fliould  find  fomething  to  recal  my  Frcde- 
rica  to  my  reme'mbrance.... every  where  fliould  I  fee  the 
image  of  my  Frederica. 

Into  the  park,  then,  I  can  as  little  go  as  into  the 
church-yard,  though  in  both  I  might  find  relief  to  my 
wounded  heart,  for  it  muft  break. 

Shall  I  fly  to  my  mother's  houfe  ?  There,  I  have 
lived  with  my  wife. ...there,  too,  every  objed  nr.  ft  re- 
mind me  of  my  loft  happinefs.  At  that  table  we 
breakfafted  together.. ..at  that  toilet  flie  ufed  to  drefs.... 
from  that  harpfichord  flie  drew  tones  foft  and  fweet  as 
her  own  heart. ...that  was  the  place  where  flie  fat  at  din- 
ner....on  this  fopha  we  have  reclined  together  while  fiie 
read  to  me,  when  I  v/as  too  ill  to  attend  to  any  thing 
but  her  loved  voice.... tha':  v/as  her  fleeping  room,  and 
in  that  room  The  died  !  No,  no,  he  has  never  Icvcd 
who  can  importune  me  to  fpt'nd  another  hour  in  that 
houfe.... It  is  to  me  a  yawning  grave,  and  though  I  cm 
no  longer  find  any  c'aarm.s  in  life,  I  muft  not  forget  that 
I  have  children. 

What  then  would  remain  for  me  ?  To  mix  with  fo- 
ciety.  But  fociety  I  cannot  at  prefent  bear,  at  leaft 
not  the  fociety  of  perfons  formerly  known  to  me.  Noth- 
ing is  fo  dreadful  as  the  thought  of  going  among  thofc 
who  would  pity  me,  who  would  perpetually  be  afldng 
hov/  I  find  myfelf,  who  would  endeavour  to  confole 
rn:,  v/ould  talk  to  me  of  the  wife  decrees  of  heaven,  of 
rcafon,  cf  i^icty,  of  refignation.    I  know  I  have  friend* 


MY    FLIGHT    TO  PARIS. 


127 


there  who  would  cordially  fympathize  in  my  forrow,  but 
they  could  not  fecure  me  from  the  mtrufion  of  unfolicit- 
ed  comforters,  and  thefe  I  cannot  help  feeing,  in  imagina- 
tion, accoftlng  me  at  every  ftep  with  their  common-place 
faws,  which  would  drive  me  to  diftradlion.  Away,  then, 
with  the  idea  of  fuch  confolers....!  do  not  wifh  to  be  con- 
foled,  neither  do  I  wifh  any  one  to  weep  with  me.  Thefe 
things  found  well,  but  are  in  faft,  fine-founding  phrafes 
only.  Who  can,  indeed,  weep  with  me,  for  who  can  feel 
like  myfeif  what  I  have  loft  ?  I  am  more  compofed  amid 
a  crowd  of  unknown  faces,  who  are  ignorant  of  the 
heavy  calamity  I  have  experienced,  than  furrounded  by 
thofe  who  have  been  accuilomed  to  fee  me  in  better  cir- 
cumftances.  Here  I  am  not  afraid  of  being  affailed  by 
remarks  that  would  only  irritate  and  inflam.e  anew  thofe 
wounds,  the  fm.irt  of  which  is  beginning  in  fome  degree 
to  abate.  Here  I  can  weep  alone  and  unmOieil:ed....no 
one  obferves  my  t:irs,  or  aggravates  my  forrov/  by  at- 
tempting its  alleviation. 

Strange,  that  I  faould  be  reproached  with  endeavour- 
ing to  fly  from  melancholy  recollections !  And  who 
would  not  fly  them  ?  I  am  advifed  to  remove  this  fus- 
picion  by  returning.  No  !  this  fufpicionis  v/ell  founded, 
and  I  neither  can,  nor  will  refute  it.  I  fled  W eimar, 
that  my  forrow  might  not  be  perpetually  nouriflied ;  and 
how  this  condufl,  fo  natural,  fo  confonant  to  human 
feelings,  fliould  injure  my  character,  is  to  me  incom.prc- 
henfible.    That  in  flying  that  fcene  of  woe,  I  have  not 


128 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  FARU 


forgotten  my  beloved  wife,  thefe  pr.ges  .will  fulHclently 
teilify.  The  vicinity  of  her  grave  is  not  necefTary  to 
remind  me  cf  my  Frederica....vv-ho  would  rufii  into  the 
flames  when  lie  orJy  feeks  to  warm  himfelf  ? 

But  it  may  be  urged,  that  I  have  children  at  Weimar, 
who  have  a  claim  on  my  attention.  It  is  becaufe  I  feel 
their  claims  fo  deeply,  thtit  I  am  exerting  every  efi'ort 
to  reilore  my  mind  to  fuch  a  ftate  as  m.iy  enable  me 
properly  to  fulfil  the  lacred  duties  of  a  father.  At  pre- 
fent,  they  are  placed  in  f^tuations  that  re.ider  my  imme- 
diate care  unnecelTary.  The  eldefl  is  v/ith  a  very  worthy 
and  refpedlable  man  at  Schnepfenthal,  who  pofTeffes  both 
the  will  and  abihty  faithfully  to  difcharge  the  duties  of  a 
guardian.  Far  better  is  it  for  him  to  remain  there  till 
his  father's  mind  be  compofcd,  than  for  his  infant  heart 
to  be  made  a  v/itnefs  of  forrows  that  might  throw  clouds 
over  the  cheerfulneis  of  youth  which  r.o  time  could  dis- 
perfe.  To  the  youngeft,  at  prefent,  the  attentions  of 
a  riurfe  is  more  neceiFary  than  thofe  of  a  father  ;  fiie  is 
with  her  excellent  grandmother  ;  Cie  cannot  be  in  better 
hands  :  indeed,  I  will  freely  own  that  niy  bofom  mull 
experience  m^any  a  fevere  confiift  before  it  can  be  recon- 
ciled to  the  daily  fight  of  this  child.  She  cofl  herhap- 
lefs  mother  her  hfe  !  and  can  I  behold  her,  though  inno- 
cent, without  recurring  to  this  rccolleflion  ? 

Let  not,  then,  my  flight  be  confidered  as  having  in- 
teifered  with  any  of  my  duties.  I  am  fatisfied  that  it 
was  the  only  means  of  faving  my  reafon,  perhaps  my  life, 
and  am  firmly  rcfolv.d  never  more  to  revifit  my  once- 


I 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


129 


loved  native  town.*  I  here  return  my  grateful  thanks 
to  thofe  of  its  inhabitants  with  whom  I  lived  in  focial 
and  friendly  intercourfe,  for  the  many  happy  hours  pafTed 
in  their  fociety.  I  return  my  grateful  thanks  to  thofe  who 
loved  and  valued  my  Frederica,  particularly  are  they  re- 
turiisd  to  the  two  worthy  phyficians  for  every  moment  of 
cafe  their  Ikill  procured  her  during  her  laft  painful  illnefs. 
And  thou,  my  beft  of  friends,  G — ,the  warmeft  effufions 
of  my  gratitude  are  thine.  Thou  art  a  man  of  no  com- 
mon caft,  for  thou  didft  prove,  what  is  fo  rarely  to  be 
found,  a  friend  in  need!  I  cannot  be  lavifh  of  words; 
let  filence  fpeak  for  me! 

Thus  I  take  an  eternal  farev^ell  of  thee,  thou  fcenc 
of  happinefs  to  the  boy,  of  mifery  to  the  man !  Within 
thy  walls  I  firft  received  exiftence... .within  thy  walls  that 
exiftence  was  again  loft,  lince  what  remains  to  me  of  Hfe, 
I  fcarcely  can  count  as  exiftence!  Hope  and  joy  accom- 
panied me  as  I  entered  thy  gates. ...defpair  and  mifery 
drove  me  out  from  them  again !  Mayeft  thou  never  be- 
come the  fcene  of  like  mifery  to  any  other  of  thine  in- 
habitants ! 

At  Erfurth  we  went  to  the  fign  of  the  Black-Thorn, 
The  laft  time  I  was  there  we  had  put  up  at  the  Roman 

*  To  this  refolution,  ♦according  to  report,  Kotzebue  has  uni- 
formly adhered.  When  he  quitted  the  Empreis  of  Ruffia's  fer- 
vice,  he  was  for  fome  time  Diredor  of  the  Imperial  Theatre  at 
Vienna.  That  place,  at  his  own  requeft,  he  was  permitted  to 
refign  fome  months  ago,  and  he  now  refides  at  Jena,  but  no  kf< 
ardently  devoted  than  ever  to  his  literary  purfuits 

Translator. 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PA?Jl^ 


Emperor,  but  my  Frederics  was  then  with  ms^  and  1 
cciild  go'tbere  no  more. 

At  tli-e  Black-Thorn,  we  met  the  Baron  Von  O  , 

a  very  plcafing  and  well-informed  young  man,  with  z 
head  and  lieart  of  tnie  coinage.  I  begged  him  to  accorn- 
pr.ny  us....Ke  was  afTe^led  by  my  fituat:on....He  is  per- 
feftly  at  his  own  difpofaL...He  needed  not  much  intreaty, 
but  immediately  confentcd  to  my  requefi:;  and,  getting 
into  the  chaife  with  us,  we  proceeded  onwards. 

NOVEMBER  20. 

On  this  day  we  arrived  at  Mentz.  Even  winter  can- 
Kot  deprive  the  country  around  that  town  of  its  charms, 
lie  who  could  not,  though  labouring  under  the  prelTure 
of  fevere  afHi£lion,  fed  the  beauties  of  the  profpeft  in 
defcending  the  liiil  from  Kcchhcim,  where  the  noble 
Rhine  appears  proudly  embracing  the  lovely,  though 
lefs  {lately  Maine,  as  his  bride,  with  the  mag:iificent  tovrn 
of  Mentz  fprcad  along  the  banks  of  both  rivers,  and  the 
vine-covered  hills  by  which  it  is  furrcunded....He  v.ho 
could  not  feel  thefe  things,  muft  be  a  wretched  m.an  in^ 
deed.  Such  an  one  I  truly  pity.. ..he  is  even  more 
wretched  than  myfelf. 

DECE^:EI:R  2. 

I  was  feparated  from  the  excellent  G-  .  Kc 

returned  to  Weimar,  to  a  wife  whom  he  tenderly  loves. 
Heaven  reward  his  kindnefs  to  me  by  fparing  that  trea- 
fure  to  him!  I  defired  him. to  take  back  my  carriage.... 
it  had  been  the  fcene  of  many  happy  hours  fpent  with 
my  Frederica,  and  I  could  not  bear  to  proceed  i-  it. 


Ml    rLlGlIT  TO  PARIS. 


131 


Every  thing  unnecsEiry,  t3o,  I  alfo  fsnt  back,  rcfolv- 

ing  to  proceed  in  the  Diligence  with  my  friend  O-  , 

haraffing  my  felt  with  as  fev/  incumbrances  as  poffible. 
The  little  dog,  alone,  I  could  net  drfmifs.  I  ufed  to 
diflike  this  poor  animal,  but  now  I  fjcl  that  I  cannot 
part  with  him  as  long  as  he  lives. 

DECEMBER  3. 

A  melanclioly  morning.  The  image  of  my  Frederica 
was  never  abfent  from  me  for  a  moment.  To  give  vent 
to  the  anguiai  of  m.y  foul,  I  began  to  write  the  detail  of 
her  illnefs.  It  occupied  m.y  mind,  and  I  found  it  fome 
relief.  I.  will  therefore  continue  it. ...'tis  a  fcothing 
though  painful  employment. 

I  this  d:iy  became  acquainted  with  a  man  who  had 
long  appeared  to  me  in  an  amiable  light  as  an  author, 
f?nd  now  does  not  feem  lef^  amiable  as  a  man.  This  was 
FrofcfTor  Keinfe,  autlior  of  the  Ardinghello. 

DECEMBER  4. 

ConducpLed  by  the  krc-mentioned  perfon,  in  the  mcrn- 
iiig,  I  vifited  the  library  of  the  hereditary  prince,  of 
v/hich  he  is  fuperintendant.  The  rooms  are  built  with 
tafle  and  elegance.  We  Iv.  x  there  the  oldell  monument 
prh-t'no-,  the  nrll  bible  by  G:itten:bcrg,  a  very  finely 
pri:'ited  collefi.ion  of  the  difFcrcnt  forts  of  writing  that 
h:^.ve  been  in  ufe  in  the  v/orId....ruptrb  editions  of  the 
cI..l!ior,....the  v  ^bic  and  Palmyra... ,fonie  of  the 

fiaefi  and  moil  cx^,  ../...  woi  ks  in  Natural  KiRory,  with 
Y^riouG  other  things  worthy  of  a  princely  ccl!e6iion. 


1S2 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


But  what  pleafcd  me  more  than  all,  was  the  enchant- 
ing profpecft  from  the  balcony.  Beneath  us  was  the 
J^hine,  with  the  noble  bridge  of  boats,  and  a  crowd  of 
moving  mafts.  On  the  other  fide  the  fuburbs  of  Caffel, 
and  Hochheim  in  the  diftant  fcene....To  the  right,  the 
confluence  of  the  Rhine  and  Maine. ...To  the  left,  abeau-r 
tiful  ifland  in  the  Rhine.... Farther  off,  the  Caftle  of  Bi- 
brich,  and,  quite  in  the  back-ground,  the  whole  Rhine- 
gau.  Never  did  I  fee  any  thing  more  charming.  He 
who  wiflies  to  prove  whether  his  foul  be  endued  with  any 
of  the  infpiration  of  poetry  or  painting,  has  only  to  fpend 
fome  time  on  this  balcony,  and,  if  ftill  this  matter  re- 
main doubtful,  he  may  be  fatisfied.  The  true  poet  muft 
involuntarily  break  forth  into  poetic  efFufions...,the  true 
painter  muft,  irrefiftibly,  flcetch  the  landfcape. 

My  friend  and  companion,  O  ,  this  day  received 

letters  from  Weimar.  He  told  me  that  all  ivas  quiet  in 
my  houfe.  Oh !  how  thefe  words  pierced  m.e  to  the  heart! 
Quiet,  indeed!  What  fo  quiet  as  death?  The  intelli- 
gence was  kindly  meant  to  confole  me.  I  made  no  an- 
fwer  to  it. ...but,  how  often  in  the  midft  of  tumult  and 
difiipation,  has  the  dreadful  idea  rufhed  upon  m.e,  that, 
all  ivas  quiet  in  my  houfe! 

DECEMBER  5. 

In  the  evening  I  received  a  letter  from  Weimar  myfelf. 
The  moment  I  caft  my  eyes  upon  it,  I  was  leized  with  a 
fudden  trembling.  I  had  not  power  then  to  open  it.  I 
laid  it  by  till  morning.. ..but  this  was  no  relief  to  me.  I 
pafTed  a  miferable  night. ...and  the  morning.. .....^ 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


133 


DECEMBER  7. 

We  fet  out  at  eight  o'clock,  in  a  hired  chaife,  for 
Manheirn,  It  was  a  delightful  day.. ..The  heavens  were 
fcrene  and  unclouded,  and  the  bright  rays  of  the  fun 
played  on  the  glaffy  furface  of  the  Rhine,  along  the 
banks  of  which  lay  our  road.. ..the  profped  around  was 
fmiling  and  cheerful,  though  in  the  midH  of  winter.... 
hills  covered  with  vines,  iflands  in  the  midft  of  the  river, 
convents  always  eredled  in  the  mofl  enchanting  fpots, 
and  high  mountains  to  the  left  in  the  diftant  horizon, 
adorned  and  diverfified  the  icene.  A  thoufand  times 
was  my  foul  harralTed  by  the  agonizing  wifh  that  my 
Frederica  were  but  by  my  fide.... a  thoufand  times  was 
I  affailed  by  the  moft  painful  comparifons  between  my 
prefcnt  journey,  and  that  I  took  ^vith  her  when  we  re- 
turned into  Germany.  How  often  did  I  then  reft  my 
head  upon  her  lap,  or  againft  her  fhoulder,  to  court 
the  gentle  flumbers  my  ill  liealth  required... .how  often 
prefs  her  lovely  hand  to  my  lips..,. No  !  never,  never 
can  I  be  happy  again. 

My  creative  fancy,  the  moft  faithful  friend  I  have  re- 
ceived from  nature,  did  not  this  day  forfake  me.  I 
formed  to  myfelf  a  vifion,  or  rather  built  a  caflle  in  the 
air,  which  amufed  my  diftrailed  mind  for  more  than  an 
hour  together.  It  took  its  rife  from  a  beautiful  ifland 
in  the  Rhine,  which,  as  we  paffed  it,  ftrongly  attrafl- 
ed  my  attention.  I  fuppofed  myfelf  a  god,  or  at  leaft  a 
femi-deity,  endued  with  the  power  of  calling  my  Frede- 

p'ca  back  to  life  on  condition  of  paffing  the  remaindc 
M 


T\IY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


of  my  days  with  her  on  that  Ifland,  without  ever  vilit- 
ing  tlie  oppofite  fhore  ourfelves,  or  receiving  vilits  from 
others.  I  faw  the  boat  that  carried  us  over.. ..we  quit^ 
ted  it.. ..the  boat  returned,  and  we  remained  there  alone. 
Yet  not  entirely  alone.. ..Love  had  fluttered  oyer  with 
our  boat....Efteem  and  Friendfhip  clipped  his  wings  ere 
he  could  depart  again,  and  he  remained  our  companion, 
V/ e  then  began  to  eftabhfh  our  domeftic  oeconomy.  I 
built  a  little  cot  amid  a  group  of  flcurifhing  trees  ;  my 
Frederica  laid  out  a  garden,  which  we  fowed  and  plant- 
ed, and  in  time  were  repaid  by  its  ripened  fruits.  There 
in  the  meadow  that  fmiles  on  the  river's  banks  our  cat- 
tle grazed ;  and  there,  too,- our  infantsfported  and  played. 
But  left  they  fhould  fall  into  the  water,  we  planted  a 
hedge  by  its  fide  for  their  defence.  Smile,  reader,  if 
thou  wilt ;  yet  deny  me  not  the  momentary  pleafure  I 
receive  from  fuch  delufions  of  fancy.. ..they  are  my  fole 
pleafures. 

We  arrived  at  Manheim  towards  evening. 

DECEMBER  8. 

I  v/as  invited  this  day  to  dine  with  Iffland,  but  was 
too  ill  to  accept  the  invitation.  As  I  thought,  how- 
ever, that  this  attention  gave  me  fome  claim  upon  him, 
I  taxed  his  poHtenefs  with  furnifliing  me  entertainment 
for  the  morning,  and  begged  one  of  his  manufcripts  to 
read.  He  was  fo  obliging  as  to  fend  me  the  j^utumn  Day, 
which  I  found  an  excellent  piece,  and  well  v/orthy  of  it^ 
author. 


MY    FLIGHT    TO  PARIS. 


In  the  evening  my  Natural  Son  was  performed.  I 
did  not  go  to  the  theatre,  for  oh  !  never  can  I  bear  to 
be  prefent  again  at  the  reprefentation  of  that  play.  My 
beloved  Frederica  ufed  to  perform  the  part  of  Amelia 
on  our  private  ftage....I  inftru£led  her  myfelf  in  my  ideas 
of  the  character,  and  every  afTociation  and  recolledlioa 
connected  with  it,  would  plant  a  dagger  in  my  heart. 
Befides,  I  have  put  into  the  mouth  of  the  paftor  fuch  a 
pit^ure  of  wedded  happinefs  as  I  can  no  longer  bear  to 
think  of.    I  remained  therefore  alone,  and  pafTed  a  me- 
lancholy evening,  wholly  occupied  with  reflections  on 
my  late  calamity.    Some  books  had  been  brought  me 
from  the  bookfeller's,  but  I  could  not  read....I  could 
only  walk  up  and  down  the  room  almoll  in  a  fit  of  de- 
lirious enthufiafm.    With  tears  did  I  implore  the  fpirit 
of  my  Frederica  to  appear  to  me,  and  fo  wrapt  was  my 
imagination,  that  I  was  for  a  mcm.ent  furprized  fiie  did 
not  yield  to  my  requeft. 

I  afterwards  fi-Letched  the  defign  of  •  a  monument, 
which,  at  feme  future  period,  I  fhall  eredl  to  her  in  m.y 
room.  Thefe  were  melancholy  hours.. .oyet  hours  that 
fafcinated  my  fenfes  very  powerfully. 

DECEMBER  9. 

I  received  letters  both  from  Weimar  and  Reval  that 
made  the  blood  gufh  anew  from  my  unclofed  wounds- 
My  mother  told  me  that  the  new-born  infant  had  been 
baptized  under  her  mother's  pidure.  Oh  God  !  why 
was  this  only  to  be  written  to  me  \ 


3  36 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


In  H  's  letter  from  Reval,  was  enclofed  one  froitl 

Ms  wife  to  mine,  whofe  intimate  friend  fhe  was.  It  was 
chreded  To  my  dear  Frsderica,  Tears  ftaited  into  my 
eyes  as  they  v/ere  call  on  the  dire6lion..».that  dear  Fre- 
c'erica  was  lofl  for  ever. 

A  poem  v/as  this  cay  fent  me  by  an  anonymous  hand 
upon  the  repreferitation  of  the  Natural  Sen  on  the  pre- 
t  ^ding  evening.. ..the  plan  of  it  was  this  :  Art  invited 
Nature  to  fee  the  perform.ance  of  a  mafter-piece,  to 
v/h:ch  Nature  replied,  that  it  muii  then  be  a  piece 
written  by  me,  and  afted  by  Iffland,  Bock,  and  Witt- 
hoft.  Such  grofs  flattery  is  infufierabjy  naufeous.  'Tis 
llrange  that  whoever  feeks  my  acquaintance,  feems  to 
think  he  muft  neceffarily  accoft  me  with  a  com>pliment  to 
fome  of  m.y  v/ritings.  Muft  a  poet  then  always  be  ap- 
proached with  a  full  mouth,  asaneaftern  monarch  with  full 
hands  ?  Oh,  that  people  could  but  feel  what  a  grievous 
taflc  it  is  to  be'  continually  returning  fuch  compliments 
with  the  common-place  ceremonials  of  pardon  me.  Sir  ! 
or,  you  do  me  great  honour  !  or,  your  commendations  give 
me  great  encouragement  !  and  the  like.  Yet  let  it  not  be 
fuppofed  that  I  am  abfurd  enough  to  make  a  pretenfion 
of  indifference  to  public  approbation  and  applaufe,  only 
I  wifh  to  be  fpared  the  embarraffment  of  aafwering  tbefe 
courtly  flourifties. 

I  dined  with  Madame  Von  D-  ,  a  lady  of  much 
fpirit  and  vivacity.  One  fpecimen  of  her  wit  ftiall  be 
given,  becaufe  it  contains  a  very  juft  obfervation,  to 
which  thofe  whom  it  concerns  would  do  well  to  pay  at- 
tention.   It  was  obferved  by  fomebody  at  table,  that 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


137 


the  players,  in  their  performances,  often  help  themfelves 
out  with  an  Oh  I  or  an  Jb  !  "  'Tis  a  dramatic  ftaff," 
faid  the  mailer  of  the  houfe,  "  on  which  thefe  gentle- 
**  men  lean  for  fupport." 

Rather,*'  replied  the  lady,  "  a  dramatic  cudgel  that 
"  they  make  the  audience  fed  foundly." 

DECEMBER  IO» 

We  faw  the  Hall  of  Antiques.  From  the  title  I  ex- 
pefted  to  have  found  a  coUedion  of  real  antique  flatues, 
but  it  reminded  me  of  a  trick  once  played  at  Erlangen. 
Over  the  door  of  a  houfe  a  board  was  placed,  faying, 
j^n  Elephant  to  be  feen  here...>\hQ  inhabitants  crowded  to 
behold  this  curiofity  ;  when,  behold  !  the  print  only  of 
an  elephant  was  exhibited. 

In  like  manner  the  Hall  of  Antiques  contains  nothing 
but  cafts  after  the  ancient  works  of  art,  moil  of  which 
are  to  be  feen,  much  better  executed,  in  R(>ft's  (hop  at 
Leipfick.  I  was,  however,  pleafed  with  the  Hercules, 
the  Luocoon,  and  the  celebrated  Torfo. 

An  ignorant  fellow,  employed  as  a  model  to  the 
ac^idemy  here,  went  about  with  us  to  explain  the  figures. 

And  there,"  faid  he,  pointing  to  one,  **  is  Voltaire, 
<i  who  died  feme  time  ago  at  Paris. 

"  Who  v/as  Voltaire  ?'*  I  allied. 

"  A  poet,"  he  replied,  '*  and  a  great  fcholar,  who 
"  did  not  beheve  any  thing  till  he  was  upon  his  death- 
^  bed,  and  then  he  beheved  every  thing." 

M  2 


138 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


What  infinite  trouble  have  the  priefts  taken  to  con- 
vince the  world  that  Voltaire  was  a  convert  in  his  dying 
Kioments ! 

Hence  we  went  to  the  pi 6lure -gallery,  which  is,  in- 
deed, very  fine.  Ah!  I  fought  every  where  among  ten 
thoufand  faces,  one  that  I  could  imagine  bore  fome  re- 
femblance  to  my  Frederica  ;  but  none  fuch  could  I  find. 
This  gallery  contains  many  pieces  of  the  Flemilh  fchool. 
I  was  more  efpecialiy  pleafed  with  Rembrandt's  famous 
pid^ure  of  the  reconciliation  of  the  Romans  and  Sabines, 
through  the  interpofition  of  the  Sabine  women  who  had 
been  carried  away  by  the  Romans.  'TiS  a  pleafant  thing 
that  the  name  of  the  artift  is  here  affixed  to  every  pic- 
ture. This  is  not  the  cafe  either  in  the  coUedlion  at 
Drefden,  at  DufTeldorf.  at  Caffel,  or  at  Sans-Souci. 

In  the  evening  The  Virgin  of  the  Sun  was  performed. 
liBand  played  the  High-Prieft,  and  gave  the  author  a 
proof  that  his  higheft  expeftations  of  excellence  in  the 
aclor  could  be  exceeded.  Mademoifeile  Witthoft,  alfo, 
though  fhe  only  played  the  infignificant  part  of  Idali, 
evinced  that  a  great  aftrefs  may  render  even  a  trifling 
part  important.  The  dreiTes  and  decorations  were  fplen- 
did,  and  fliewed  great  tafte.  I  cannot  tell,  however, 
why  Rolla  carried  a  club.  A  people  who  could  build 
fuch  a  temple,  were,  ?.s  may  be  reafonably  fuppofed,  pafl 
that  sera  in  nations  when  the  warriors  combated  with 
thofe  weapons. 

DECEMBER  II. 

At  noon  we  proceeded  in  the  Diligence  to  Strafburgh. 
I  chofe  this  conveyance,  v/Iiich  v/ac  then  only  known  to 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


139 


me  by  report,  partly  from  economy,  partly  becaufe 
amid  fuch  a  medl^^y  of  company  there  would  probably 
be  more  to  engage  my  attention,  and  difiipate  tliought. 
We  found  five  people  feated  there  already;  and,  as  we 
came  fomewhat  late,  we  were  confequently  obliged  to  be 
content  with  the  worft  places.  Our  company  confilled 
of; 

Imprimis.  A  young  merchant,  who  had  Huffed  up 
every  corner  of  the  carriage  with  Champagne  bottles. 
He  bore  the  appearance  of  ftrong  health  in  his  counte- 
nance, from  not  troubling  himfelf  with  thinking  much. 

Secondly.  Next  to  him  fat  a  lovely  girl,  from  Lan- 
dau, who  fpoke  both  German  and  French,  and  talked 
at  a  great  rate  with  the  young  merchant.  Sometimes 
they  gave  themfelves  out  as  hufband  and  wife;  and,  in- 
f  deed,  from  fundry  little  circumftaaces,  which  I  leave  the 
reader  to  guefs,  the  prefumption  that  they  were  fo,  ap- 
peared very  ftrong.  Such,  however,  was  not  really  the 
faa. 

Thirdly.  An  officer  from  the  garrifon  at  Manheim, 
who,  notwitliftanding  the  eftabhfhed  prohibition  againft 
fmoking  in  the  diligence,  puffed  his  tobacco  in  monftrous 
clouds  into  my  face,  without  fhame  or  remorfe. 

Fourthly.  A  perfon  who  appeared  like  a  Dutch  cler- 
gyman, and  was  undoubtedly  the  mofb  compauionable 
man  of  the  whole  party. 

Fifthly.    An  ugly,  infignificant,  ftupid  woman. 

The  ofiictr  amuf«_d  mc  with  relating  to  the  company, 
that  the  Baron  Von  Kotzebue  h  id  been,  feme  days  be- 
fore, at  Maaheim,  a;id  was  preicnt  at  the  repref^atatlon 


140  MY  FLIGHT  TO  PART?. 


of  his  Virg'tn  of  the  Sun.  He  prattled  a  great  deal  be-  ■ 
fides  about  me  and  my  writings,  but,  fince  no  one  joined 
in  the  '^converfation,  he  aftervvaic's  r.dverted  to  a  more 
general  fubje£l,  and  made  ma  ly  ingenious  remarks  upon 
the  bad  quality  of  the  fpring-wnter  at  Manheim.,  on 
which  the  young  merchn:n,  vr.xh  a  fmile,  cafl:  fome 
obI"que  glances  at  his  Champagne  bottles. 

The  cmbarralTment  of  my  fervant,  tec,  was  not  a  little 
cnterLaining.  He  v.'ns  now,  for  the  firft  tim.e  in  his  life^ 
in  a  carriage  v/ith  me,  his  knee  fqueezed  againft  mine, 
Bfcfides,  this  eight-^e^tcd  vehicle,  and  the  introrluft  c  n 
of  his  httle  perfon  among  a  company  of  gentlemen  and 
ladies,  were  altogether  fo  new  to  him,  that  an  expreffion 
of  deep  aftoniHiment  was  very  legible  in  his  full,  fat  face. 
On  this  journey  he  frequently  ate  at  the  fame  table  with 
me,  and  I  think  I  can  now  affert  from  experience,  that 
this  fpecies  of  condefcenfion,  or  of  confidential  inter- 
courfe,  if  it  may  be  fo  called,  extremely  increafes  the 
attachment  of  fervants  to  their  maliers.  It  feerns  to 
give  tliem  a  certain  feeling  of  confequence  in  their  own 
eyes,  though  v/ithout  lelFening  the  refpe£l  due  to  thofe 
they  fervc,  provided  the  condu6l  of  the  latter  be  fuch  as 
net  to  degrade  their  own  refpe£iability.  Ah,  why  have 
we  bound  the  good  old  patriarchal  manners  in  the  chains 
of  an  over-weening  pride  ? 

We  flept  at  Neuftadt.  From  this  journey,  and  the 
manner  in  which  it  was  performed,  I  had  received  infi- 
nite entertainment,  as  well  as  benefit,  fmce  the  fliaking 
of  the  vehicle  v/as  good  for  my  health,  and  the  weather 
was  10  mild  thst  I  felt  the  air  extremely  falutary,  had 


N        Flight  to  pari^.  I'll 

htJt  the  ftate  of  my  mind  embittered  every  enjoyments 
Never  could  I  fliake  olF  the  recolle^lion  of  why  I  was 
travelling,  why  I  wandered  thus  up  and  down,  without 
any  fixed  objeft  in  view.  I  was  in  purfuit  of  peace  and 
compofure  of  heart,  two  friends  which  I  could  riot  hope 
foon  to  fiad* 

DECEMBER  12* 

At  four  in  the  morning  we  proceeded  on  our  journey. 
Of  the  company  that  fct  out  with  us,  only  the  young 
Champagne  merchant  and  the  pretty  girl  remained.  So 
much  the  more  commodivufiy  were  we  feated. 

At  nine  o'clock  we  arrived  at  Landau,  the  firft  town 
on  our  route  occupied  by  a  French  garrifon.  V/ e  were 
only  allowed  half  an  hour  for  breakfafting,  which  breaks 
faft  was  only  to  be  procured  at  the  coffee-houfe,  which 
coffee-houfe  was  at  a  great  diftance  from  the  poft-houfe. 
'Tis  a  fiily  inftitution  in  France,  that  coffee  is  only  to  be 
had  at  the  coffee-houfes. 

If  I  had  not  previoufly  known  that  this  v^^as  a  French 
frontier  town,  I  muft  immediately  have  difcovered  it  by 
the  extreme  affedlation  of poluejfd  that  reigns  throughout- 
Smoking  is  a  thing  not  allowed  at  the  coffee-houfe.  I 
allied  who  were  the  people  that  chiefly  frequented  the 
place. 

"  Les  Officiersy*  was  the  reply. 

And  do  not  the  officers  fmohe?" 

Non,  Monjteur," 
•*  And  cannot  endure  the  fumes  of  tobacco?" 
"  Nortf  Monfieur^'* 


l42  MT  FLIGHT  TO  PARIC; 

When  the  half  hour  was  eiapfed  we  proceeded  on  out 
journey,  but  das!  no  longer  in  the  beft  feats.  The 
young  lady  reniained  at  Landau  J  and,  oh  terrible !  her 
place  was  to  be  fupplied  by  feven  other  perfons,  making 
our  total  complement  cf  pafTengers  ten. 

I  confefs,  at  the  iirft  moment  my  heart  revolted 
fo  much  againll  this  fqueeze,  that  I  was  about  to  de- 
fcend  from  the  carriagi.  and  hire  a  pcfl-chaife.  It  was' 
a  truly  formidable  fight  to  behold  one  after  another 
tumbling  in,  arranging,  crowding,  com.preffing  themfelves" 
together,  and,  when  it  might  reafonably  be  fappofed 
that  the  whole  cargo  was  ftowed,  and  no  room  remained 
even  for  fo  much  as  a  lap-dog,  to  fee  yet  another  and 
another  head  appear,  like  herrings,  ramming  down  for 
falting.  However,  all  was  fo  ordered,  that  at  laft  we 
were  tolerably  well  packed,  and  thofe  in  the  back  feats, 
at  leaft,  but  little  incommoded. 

Among  our  new  companions,  was  the  mayor  of  a 
neighbouring  village,  who  was  very  eloquent  in  ha- 
ranguing upon  his  office,  upon  decrets,  the  Notahlesy  and 
the  like.  He  vras  recently  elevated  to  his  dignity ;  and, 
having  been  taken  from  the  plough  to  be  placed  at  the 
head  of  the  people,  prided  himfelf  not  a  little  upon  the 
diflinftion.  Politics  were  the  principal  fubjecl  of  con- 
verfation,  in  v/hich  we,  of  courfe,  did  not  join.  Thus 
much  appeared  pretty  plainly,  that  however  the  revolu- 
tion may  in  general  be  applauded,  the  new  order  of 
thii:gs  affords  little  real  fatisfa£lion.  The  tree  pleaftd 
while  it  looked  beautiful,  covered  with  blolfoms,  but 
ao  one  likes  the  four  fruit. 


MY   FLIGHT   TO  PARIS, 


i45 


After  a  while,  growing  tired  of  politics,  I  had  rc-^ 
courfe  to  the  more  agreeable  prattler,  yean  Jacques  ywhom 
I  carried  i  n  my  pocket.  With  him  I  amufed  myfelf 
till  the  evening  began  to  clofe  in,  when  I  put  by  my 
book,  and  opening  the  Httle  window  next  to  me,  tuck- 
ed myfelf  into  the  corner  of  the  carnage.  The  Dili= 
gence  has  eight  windows.... one  in  front,  one  behind,  one 
on  each  fide,  and  a  little  one  fcarcely  as  big  as  my  two 
hands  at  every  corner. 

It  was  a  lovely  evening.. ..the  crefcent  of  the  waning 
moon  (hone  bright  in  the  heavens....the  greateft  part  of 
the  company  fell  afleep,  and  all  being  ftill,  my  fancy 
began  again  to  form  vifions.    I  looked  around  for  the 
image  of  my  Frederica,  intreated  her  fpirit  to  appear 
beneath  the  lhade  of  the  next  tree  by  the  road-fide  ;  and, 
when  I  did  not  find  it  there,  eagerly  looked  forwards 
in  hopes  of  efpying  it  beneath  a  more  diftant  one.  Oh, 
how  my  heart  beat  if  then,  a  white  poft,  beheld  through 
the  twilight,  for  a  moment  half  deceived  my  fenfes  with 
the  idea  of  having  found  what  I  fought !   Was  this  an 
impulie  of  fear  ?  Ah,  no  !  the  apparition  of  a  beloved 
obje6t  cannot  raife  apprehenfion  in  the  bofom  of  him 
who  loves;    My  heart  feels  a  painful  longing  but  for  one 
moment  to  behold  the  fpirit  of  my  Frederica  !  I 
would  give  my  whole  life  for  fuch  a  moment,  fince  it 
would  change  into  con'vidion  what  is  now  only  hope.,  that 
I  lhall  hereafter  be  re-united  to  her.. ..hereafter  behold 
her  agam....prefs  her  again  to  my  bofom. 

Late  in  the  evening  we  arrived  at  Hagenau.  V/c 
fupped  in  a  fpacious  hall,  where  eight  large  tables  were 


» 

Hi  MY  FLIGHT  TO  ?AIIIS. 

fet  out,  filled  with  company,  eating,  drinking,  cr  play- 
ing. Many,  indeed,  were  already  drunk.  All  was  mirth 
and  jollity  j  to  which,  perhaps,  its  being  Sunday  con- 
tributed not  a  little.  The  patrole  once  made  its  ap- 
pearance among  them.. ..but  the  feverity  of  thofe  gentle- 
men was  eafily  fubdued  by  a  glafs  of  wine. 

I  aflted  an  officer  of  the  garrifon  of  5tra{burgh,  one 
of  our  travelling  companions,  whether  that,  pointing  to 
the  drefs  of  the  patrole,  was  the  national  uniform  ? 

"  Mon  Dku  he  rephed,  **  are  you  not  acquuainted 
**  with  that  yet  ?  Why,  it  is  lobe  feen  every  where." 

From  this  anfwer,  I  concluded  that  the  national 
guards,  and  the  regular  mihtary  were  not  particularly 
complacent  towards  each  other, 

I  was  farther  confirmed  in  this  opinio^i  froni  over-hear- 
ing fome  of  the  former,  at  the  next  table,  recounting 
over  many  heroic  deeds  of  the  officers,  which  evidently 
were  defjgned  as  fneers.  Our  travelling  companion 
very  judicioufly  took  no  notice  of  their  impertinence, 
and  by  this  filence  beft  alferted  the  honour  of  the 
/^:ronger, 

DECEMBER  I3. 

"We  fet  out  again  at  fix  in  the  morning.  One  perfon 
more  was  added  to  our  company... .an  old  man  with  the 
crofs  of  St.  Louis,  a  fowling  piece,  and  a  pointer.  He 
a.mufed  us  with  relating  ilories  of  various  horrible  mur- 
ders that  had  lately  been  committed  in  that  neighbor- 
hood, ami  iiluftrated  his  narrations  by  the  many  newly 
thrown-up  graves  and  wooden  crofics  which  we  found 


MY  FLiGH  r  TO  PARIS. 


by  the  way.  This  was  poor  confolation  to  the  harm- 
lefs  traveller  proceeding  quietly  on  his  route,  efpecialiy 
fince  every  thing  now  remaiYis  unpunifiied,  even  though 
the  crinninal  be  well  known.  Yet  wh?t  has  the  poor 
forfaken  wretch  to  fear  who  has  already  loft  his  all  ? 

We  entered  Strafburgh  about  noon,  and  alighted  at 
the  Red-Houfe,  upon  the  beautiful  parade.  Here 
every  thing  is  already  national.  I  obferved,  as  we  pafs- 
ed  along  the  ftreets,  a  national  pharmacopoeia,  and 
even  a  national  hatter. 

My  ill-ftars  would  fo  ordain  it,  that  in  going  from 
the  bureau  of  the  Diligence  to  the  inn,  I  was  witnefs  to 
a  melancholy  accident.  A  pair  of  unruly  horfcs  in  a 
carriage,  threw  their  rider,  and  dragged  hinn  the  whole 
length  of  the  ftreet,  ftamping  upon  and  kicking  him  all 
the  way.  Never  was  a  more  horrible  fcene ;  it  turned, 
me  fick,  and  I  v^^as  ready  to  faint.  I  heard  nothing 
around  me  but  dreadful  exclamations  of  he^s  killed  J  he's 
hilled !  The  horrible  image  of  the  man,  dragged  as  I 
had  beheld  him,  haunted  me  all  day  !  Oh  God  !  v/as 
not  my  foul  fufficientiy  opprefTed  before  with  horrible 
images  ? 

The  guard  pafTed  our  windows.  The  march  they 
played  was  fweet,  yet  this  ftruck  me  as  not  the  proper 
charafter  for  a  march  ;  it  bore  too  much  refemblance  to 
an  air.  Greater  folemnity  had  been  m.ore  appropriatCo 
I  obferved,  that  the  cannoneers  wore  fhoes  and  ftockings 
with  their  uniform,  inftead  of  boots;  and  that  no  two 
had  ilockings  alike  :  this  appeared  to  me  truly  French, 
N 


U6 


MY   FLIGHT   TO  PARIS. 


After  dianer,  we  vifited  the  (hop  of  ,Amand  King, 
the  bookfcller.  He  is  a  polite  and  pleafmg  young  man? 
and  I  here  make  my  acknowledgments  for  the  difinter° 
elled  attention  he  (hewed  me.  He  is  at  prefent  printing 
a  French  verfion  of  my  Adelaide  of  IVtilJingcni  executed 
by  a  Madame  de  Rome,  at  Paris.  This  he  gave  me  to 
look  over,  aad  the  reading  of  Adek  de  Wulfiag  afforded 
me  much  diverfion.  It  is  truly  Frenchified  in  every 
part.  At  the  end,  Adelaide  is  difcovered  to  be  the 
daughter  of  Miftivoi,  fubftituted  for  Count  Hugo's, 
cojifequently  not  Theobald's  filler.  But  the  tranflator 
has  not  eileemed  it  worth  while  to  trouble  herfelf  with 
removing  the  ftriking  improbabihties  ip  the  way  of  fuch 
an  incident. 

I  was  particularly  furprized,  that  any  expe6latioa 
ihould  be  formed  of  this  piece  being  approved  upon  ths 
French Hage.  But  Mr.  King  affured  me,  that  it  coul4 
fcarcely  fail  of  pltafing  ;  fince  every  pofiible  method  of 
rendering  priefccraft  odious,  was  now  eagerly  fought. 

Mr.  King,  too,  was  in  the  national  uniform.  I  can- 
not fay  but  that  it  is  very  fmart,  and  has  a  good  effedl. 

On  the  buttons  is  engraved  la  loij  et  k  rot,  I  afked 
whether  h  ret  was  not,  added  merely  for  the  fake  of  the 
rhyme  ? 

DECEMBER  I4. 

On  this  morning  alfo  we  fet  off  at  fix.  We  chofe,  for 
our  conveyance,  the  Diligence  to  Pans,  which  was  to 
reach  that  capital  on  the  evening  of  the  j  6th. 

Never  in  my  life  did  I  take  a  more  unpleafant  journey, 
I  \ylYL  freely  own,  indeed,  that  the  diftempered  flate  cf 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


147 


my  mind  throws  a  gloom  over  every  thing  around  me, 
and  that  I  am  now  captious  and  peeviih  under  inconve«« 
niences,  at  which,  in  my  happier  days,  I  fhould  only 
have  laughed.. ..but  here  many  things  are  really  infuiFera- 
lie. 

'  In  the  firfl;  place,  the  boafted  commodioufnefs  of  thi 
^aniag e  itfelf,  is  altogether  empty  vapour,  or  at  leaft 
mud  be  received  v^ith  very  great  allov/ance.  If  it  car- 
ried no  more  than  four,  or  perhaps  fix,  there  would 
not  be  any  great  reafon  to  complain  ;  but  unfortunately, 
its  full  complement  is  eight,  and  woe  to  him  who  hap- 
pens to  be  one  of  thofe  eight  !  Woe,  woe  indeed,  it 
they  be  all  thin  !  but  inevitable  death  (hould  they  be 
fat! 

Three  fit  forwards,  three  backwards,  and  one  againft 
each  door.  It  feems  not  at  all  taken  into  the  ac<:ount, 
that  men  have  arms  and  legs.  A  maimed  foldier,  de- 
prived of  thefe  conveniences,  might  fit  with  tolerable 
eafe.  How,  then,  to  ftow  all  the  legs,  occafion€  no  fmalt' 
perplexity  ;  for  they  who  happen  to  be  among  the' 
laft  that  get  in,  will  fcarcely  find  a  place  not  pre-oc- 
cupied  by  another  pair.  A  toe,  that  may  unfortunate- 
ly be  tormented  with  a  corn,  has  a  very  good  chance  of 
becoming  a  footilool  to  a  neighbour,  till  its  owner,  no 
longer  able  to  endure  the  torture,  will  be  extremely  glad*' 
to  draw  up  his  leg  like  that  of  a  bird  of  Paradife.  In 
this  fituation,  however,  *tis  impofiible  to  remain  long 
without  the  contradled  limb  becoming  fo  infuppcrtably 
fiifF,  that  it  cannot  be  m.oved  agaia  but  vnth  extreni.'r 


148 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PAItl?. 


HiiHculty  ;  and  when  at  laft  the  happy  moment  arrives 
that  brings  a  temporary  releafe  from  this  confinement, 
he  is,  perhaps,  fcai  cely  able  to  get  out  of  the  carriage. 

Another  convenience  of  this  fqueezed  mode  of  travel- 
ling is,  the  almoft  infurmountabk  labour  of  getting  a 
handkerchief  out  of  the  pocket.  This  is,  indeed,  fuch  a 
Herculean  talk,  that  big  drops  of  fweat  Hand  on  the 
forehead  ere  it  can  be  accomplifhed.  A  pickpocket, 
could  never  be  fo  effeftually  fecured  againft  carrying  on 
his  trade  as  in  this  Diligence.  la  the  front,  or  back- 
wards, the  prefs  is  the  moft  intolerable;  confequently^ 
thty  who  fit  againft  the  doors  are  the  leaft  incommoded 
with  refpe6^  to  elbow  room  ;  though  othervvife  they  arc 
in  far  the  worft  fituation,  and,  befides,  run  the  hazard 
of  having  their  necks  broken,  fuppofing  the  doors  not 
be  properly  fattened. 

The  vapour  of  fo  ranch  breath  pent  up  together  is 
another  agreeable  circumftance.  There  are,  indeed,  fix 
windows  to  the  carriage ;  but,  unlcfs  in  very  warm  wea- 
ther, it  is  fcarcely  poffible  to  endure  more  than  one  or 
two  open,  which  is  totally  infufficient  to  remedy  the 
evil.  The  impcffibility  of  the  pafTengers  within  opening 
the  doors,  is  an  additional  grievance  ;  they  are,  as  it 
were,  (hut  up  in  a  prifcn,  or  cage,  from  which  they  can 
be  releafed  only  by  the  goaler. 

Thus  is  a  coacli  full  of  men  carried  about  from  tow.i 
to  town,  as  the  higglers  carry  a  bafket  of  fowls;  and, 
as  a  confummation  of  their  mifery,  when  they  arrive  at 
the  jBureau,  feven  or  eight  minutes  are  perhaps  lufiered 
to  elapfe  before  the  driver  will  be  pleafcd  to  open  the 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


door  of  this  black-hote,  during  which  they  endure  all  the 
torture  of  that  impatience  unavoidably  attached  to  fuch 
a  teazing  fpecies  of  procraftination.  Of  all  thin;Ts  under 
the  fun,  confinement  is  to  me  the  moft  vexatious,  and  a 
confinement  like  what  I  have  defcribcd,  the  mod  vex- 
atious of  all. 

Many  people  confider  a  cold  as  healthy.  He,  then, 
who  has  not  had  the  fatisfadion  of  enjoying  fuch  a  token 
of  health  for  fome  time,  need  only  take  a  journey  in  this 
Diligence,  and  he  may  be  tolerably  fecure  of  obtaining 
the  defired  gratification.  As  every  paflbnger  pays  for 
his  place,  and  as  it  Has  been  long  an  univerfally  eftablifli- 
ed  maxhm,  that  one  man's  money  is  as  good  as  another's, 
fo  each  individual  thinks  he  has  equal  right  with  his 
neighbour  to  regulate  the  opening  of  the  windows,  at 
lead  of  that  by  which  he  fits.  Thus,  inftead  of  entering 
into  a  general  compa£l  for  the  advantage  of  the  whole 
company,  each,  with  the  true  ftlHranefs  of  human  na- 
ture, confiders  merely  his  own  private  intereft,  and,  per- 
liaps,  makes  fuch  draughts  of  wind,  that  'tis  only  won- 
derful how  any  body  efcapes  cold. 

The  fare  at  the  inns  is,  befides,  very  bad,  and  very 
dear.  For  terribly  infipid  boulllie,  with  foaked  bread, 
difagreeable  to  the  eye,  and  Hill  more  difagrceable  to  the 
palate,  fodden,  taftel'cifs  beef,  and  vegetables  dreiTed  with 
oil,  we  commonly  paid  half  a  dollar.  Gladly  vv-ould  I 
have  rcfigned,  for  a  tolerable  piece  of  beef,  or  a  roaft  leg 
of  mutton,  the  defcrt  that,  even  in  theie  miferable  inns, 
alv/ays  fuccecds  the  dinner.  Triis  confifls  of  wretched 
N  2 


^50  MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARI?. 


dry  bircuits,  chefnuts,  and  fruit.  Never  in  my  life  liid  I 
tafte  any  thing  more  naufeous  than  a  fort  of  bifcuit  they 
called  echaude:  it  has  the  flavour  of  foul  air. 

To  dirty  the  table-cloth  is  impoffible,  fmcc,  accord- 
ing to  appearance^  it  has  made  a  viiit  up  the  chimney 
before  it  be  fpread.  This  is  accompanied  with  forks  no 
lefs  filthy,  and  very  uninviting  for  taking  up  the  focd ; 
and,  as  to  a  knife,  no  fuch  thing  is  to  be  had.  Every 
traveller  is  expedled,  like  a  German  peafant  or  butcher, 
to  carry  one  in  his  pocket,  and  to  ufe  it  at  his  n  eals,  nrii. 
whetting  it  on  his  breeches.  The  wine  is  the  beft  thing 
brought  to  table,  though  only  a  light,  country  wine ; 
but  this  is  drank  out  of  beer-glalTes,  to  which  I  have  a 
mortal  averfion. 

Inconvenient  as  this  journey  mull  neccffarily  be  at  all 
times,  it  is  rendered  ten  times  wcrfe  ty  being  tetken  in 
winter.  To  provide  a  room,  with  a  fire,  againft  the  ar- 
rival of  the  Diligence,  is  what  nobody  thinks  of.... and 
the  only  refource  againft  peiiOiing  with  cold,  is  to 
adjourn  to  the  kitchen.  But  this  is  a  very  partial  reme- 
dy-...he  alone  who  fortunately  is  am.org  the  firft  lhc.t 
€iiter,  and  underftands  how  to  manage,  has  any  char.ce 
of  obtaining  a  tolerable  birth,  and  even  he  can  only 
choofe  whether  to  warm  him.felf  in  the  front  or  in  the 
rear,  for  to  do  both  is  impoffible.  This  is  another  adr 
vantage  for  the  lovers  of  coldn.  Nor  is  this  all :  they 
have  yet  a  third  chance.  Thefe  places  are  never  floored, 
only  paved  with  brick,  from  which  a  chill  peflikntial 
moifture  is  conftantly  rifing.  To  this  m.ay  be  added, 
all  the  v/ater  thrown  about,  people  fpitting,  and  dogs 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


151 


doing  wKat  dogs  ever  will  do,  which,  altogether,  fonrt 
an  affeinblage  cf  damps  that  may  fairly  be  coiifiicrcd  aS 
reducing  the  matter  to  a  certainty. 

Two  hours  is  the  time  allowed  for  dining,  and  the 
Diligence  ought  alfo  to  (Icp  for  the  mght.  But  fmce 
in  winter  the  roads  are  frequently  bad,  and  it  muil  be  at 
Paris  at  the  time  appointed,  it  often  travels  all  night,  or 
at  lead  refls  for  fo  fhort  a  time,  that  it  is  fcarcely  worth 
while  to  attempt  going  to  bed,  though  'tis  a  fufiicient 
delay  to  weary  and  fatigue  the  paffbngcrs,  unkfs  they 
happen  to  be  blefTjd  with  that  prop-eRfxty  fo  common  to 
traveller?,  of  being  able  to  eat  and  drink  at  any  time, 
even  in  the  middle  of  the  nisfht. 

And  fhould  it  happen  that  five  or  fix  hours  are  al- 
lowed for  reft,  a  man  muft  be  fomev/hat  pradlifed  in 
witchcraft  to  be  able  to  fleep.  The  beft  acccmmoda- 
tions  to  be  procured,  are  a  perifmngly  cold  room,  where 
the  wind  blows  in  at  every  comer,  furnifhed  with  a  bcd- 
flead  ready  to  break  down. ...to  which  are  attached,  old 
tattered  hangings,  and  a  feather-bed,  fhaken  up  high  at 
the  feet,  fomewhat  lower  in  the  middle,  and  loweft  of  all 
at  the  head.  If,  fpite  of  all  thefe  preventatives,  a  doze 
Ihould  begin  to  fteal  over  the  traveller's  wearied  eye-lid.^, 
he  may  rely  upon  being  quickly  awakened  again,  either 
by  the  noifes  of  the  inn,  or  the  howhng  of  the  wind  ia 
the  chimney. 

But  moft  terrible  of  all,  is  the  fitiiation  of  the  pooc, 
unfortunate  valetudinarian,  who,  from  the  ftate  of  his 
health,  cannot,  without  inconvenience,  experience  a  pri- 
vation of  his  cuflomary  habit  of  facrificing  every  mom- 


152 


MY   FLIGHT   TO  PARIS. 


ing  to  a  cef tain  fubteiranean  divinity  held  in  great  i-e*-' 
fpeft  among  the  Romans.. ..or,  to  put  the  cafe  in  another 
point  of  view,  who  wifhes  not  to  forego  the  performance 
of  what,  if  neglefted,  would,  according  to  Montaigne, 
transform  even  a  Seneca  into  a  fool.  The  fhaking  of 
the  vehicle  has,  perhaps,  rendered  it  doubtful  whether 
this  can  be  accomphfiied  or  not^...and,  fhould  he  wifh 
to  counteract  thefe  bad  effefts  by  a  diili  of  coffee  and  a 
morning  pipe,  either  there  is  no  time  for  taking  them, 
or,  if  he  be  difpofed  to  rob  himfelf  of  an  hour  of  rel}, 
and  rife  earh/,  that  Julricient  time  for  the  purpofe  may- 
be fecured,  where  is  the  coffee  to  be  had  In  the  inr^ 
It  is  never  farniflied;  and  at  the  coffee-houfe  the  people 
are  never  up  fo  early.  But  he  may  give  the  waiter  at 
the  coiTee-houfe  a  trifle  to  rife  on  purpofe.  So  he  may, 
and  the  waiter  will  mske  very  liberal  promifes  oyer  night, 
which,  before  morning,  will  be  entirely  forgotten. 

After  this  general  defcription  of  what  may  be  expe£l- 
ed  in  the  Dihgence,  the  pifture  of  which  is  faithfully 
Ccetched,  and  in  no  refpefl  overcharged,  I  proceed  to  a, 
detail  of  the  particular  incciiveniences  we  had  to  endure. 
Our  ccmpany  confined  partly  or  people  going  all  the 
way  from  Strafburgh  to  Paris,  partly  of  ehance-paflen- 
gers,  taken  up  only  for  fliort  diftances.  Among  the  firft 
ciafs  were: 

Imprimis.    A  merchant  from  G  ,  who  was  fo 

€3ttremely  fatisfied  with  himfelf,  that  he  thought  all  other 
people  mufl  be  equally  fatislied  with  him.  He  pretended 
to  know  every  thing.. ..and  to  have  been  every  v/here.... 
tad  kindly  gave  us  ample  in]3:ru6:ions  what  we  fliculd  do 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PAxlIS. 


153 


at  this  place,  what  fee  at  that,  with  other  like  ufetul  ia- 
formation.  He  was,  befides,  infe(Sled  with  the  difeafe 
or  fpeaking  French*. .^imitated  the  French  manner  of 
clipping  words,  and  fpeaking  through  the  nofe,  to 
ivhich  his  vile  Thuringian  dialed  was  a  great  addition. 
He  had,  beiides,theunfufFerable  habit  of  faying  comment? 
or  plait-il?  at  every  word  addreffed  to  him,  although  it 
was  obvious  that  he  was  no  more  deaf  than  myfelf.  But, 
worfe  than  all,  if  by  chance  he  ftumbled  upon  fome  dry, 
dull  joke,  he  mumbled  it,  and  tortured  it  about  till  it 
was  difguiling  as  the  drink  made  by  the  South-Sea 
I/landers,  with  chewing  the  roots  of  yams. 

Secondly,  A  Fleming,  by  name  B  ,  who  had  lived 

for  twelve  years  at  Peterfburgh.  He  had  the  perfed 
phyllognomy  of  a  Calmuck.  Never  did  I  fee  a  maa 
who  could  always  drink,  always  laugh,  and  always  talk 
ribaldry  like  him.  He  feemed  to  have  abundance  of 
vermin  about  hirn,  and  fung  chanfons  when  they  were 
troublefome.  He  v^as  pleafcd,  as  an  excellent  joke,  to 
confer  the  title  o  '  Monjieur  le  Baron  upon  his  neighbor,, 
thi  merchant.  In  what  this  profound  piece  of  humor 
originated,  I  did  not  learn,  but  this  I  know,  that  Man- 
fisur  h  Baron  was  rung  in  my  ears  till  I  was  fo  fretted^ 
th:;t  I  heartily  wifhed  I  could  have  jumped  out  of  th^ 
window  to  efcape  from  it.  I  have  commonly  found 
the  Barons  themfelves  more  fatiguing  than  their  titles ; 
but  for  this  time  the  cafe  was  reverfed. 

Thirdly  and  fourthly,  A  couple  of  honeil  citizens, 
from  fome  little  town  either  in  Alfice  or  Lorraine.  One 


I5i  MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARI?. 

of  them  \vas  a  fat,  portly  gentleman,  t lie  otKer  had  ^ 
brown,  fturdy  vifage,  with  a  fupdi-abaiidance  of  black* 
beaid.  In  the  countenance  of  the  former,  the  fpacci 
between  the  ncfc  and  mouth  formed  a  complete  femr-* 
circle.  This  is  faid  to  be  a  certain  indication  of  felf-'* 
importance  ;  and,  indeed,  he  feemed  to  take  upon  him.J 
felf  entirely  the  part  of  Mentor  to  his  companion.  If 
the  latter  opened  his  mouth,  and  appeared  in  the  mofti 
trifling  or  infignificant  circumftance  to  differ  in  opinionf 
^'ith  his  fat  companion,  an  immediate  fnub  was  the 
eonfequence.  They  gave  us  to  underftand,  that  they 
were  travelling  upon  pubHc  bufmefs.  Probably  they 
Ead  fomething  to  lay  before  the  National  AlTembly, 
sind  the  fat  man  was  to  be  the  orator,  for  he  often  leaa^ 
cd  his  head  againft  one  of  the  windows,  with  his  eyesr 
cloftd,  while  his  lips  were  moving. 

Fifthly. — An  Officer  of  the  National  Guards,  of 
whom  I  have  nothing  more  to  obferve,  than  that  he  un^ 
derllood,  the  beft  of  any  of  the  company,  how  to  roanage" 
at  the  inns,  and  was  always  one  of  the  firft  at  the  fire.  ' 

Befides  thefe,  we  had  feveral  chance-pafTengers,  for  a; 
fiiort  time  each.  Among  others,  a  Jew,  from  Nancy,' 
who,  at  early  morning,  in  the  carriage,  conformably  to* 
the  cuflom  of  his  religion,  flretching  cut  his  arms,  and' 
bundling  up  both  of  them  and  his  head  with  a  variet}^ 
of  wrappers,  offered  his  prayers  to  heaven,  without 
concerning  himfelf  about  the  inconvenience  he  might 
occafion  to  his  fellow-travellers. 

A  young  officer,  who  alfo  accompanied  us  a  part  of 
the  way,  and  feemed  to  tliink  himfelf  a  great  wit,  began 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


155 


to  difplay.ft  upon  the  poor  Jew  moll  unmercifully,  ftring- 
kg  tog-ether  filly  and  infulting  jokes,  and  branding  the 
whole  race  of  Ifrael  as  rogues,  till  at  length  I  could  not 
fupprefs  my  indignation.  I  obferved,  that  it  was  ex* 
tremely  indecent,  and  unlike  a  gentleman  to  attack  a 
inan  who  had  no  means  of  defending  himfelf ;  and  added, 
fehat  I  had  no  doubt  there  were  many  very  worthy  and 
refpeAable  people  among  the  Jews,  The  officer,  on  this, 
gave  me  a  full  and  expreflive  ilare,  which  feemed,  when 
tranJflated,  to  mean,  "  O  ho  !  what,  you  alfo  are  a  Jew?" 

Thus  my  benevolent  feelings  towards  an  infulted  fel- 
low-creature had  probably  drawn  like  infults  upon  my-, 
felf,  had  not  the  young  fon  cf  Mars,  as  is  commonly  the 
cafe  with  uich  ilupid,  conceited  jefters,  had  more  mout?^ 
than  heart,  and  been  fomewhat  frightened  by  my  reproof, 
As  it  was,  he  was  av/ed  into  filence,  and  let  the  Jew  reft, 
only  now  and  then  calling  oblique  and  fignihcant  glance§ 
upon  him.  My  protegSy  howtver,  did  not  appear  very 
deferving  of  this  iiiterferance  in  his  behalf,  fii-ce  he  rnani^ 
fefted  no  figns  of  being  any  way  ptffe^led  either  by  th^ 
warrior's  infults,  or  the  correction  they  iiad  received. 

The  reft  of  our  chance-pafFengers  are  not  worth  enu- 
merating. They  d^d  nothing  but  fqueeze  our  bodies,  an(| 
fatigue  our  underftandings. 

This  firft  dayy  the  14th,  we  dined  at  Phalfbourg,  an^ 
ireached  Blammont  in  the  evening,  where  we  ftopped  fome 
hours  to  reft* 

DECEMBER  I5. 

V/e  arrived  at  Nancy  about  noon,  paffing  through 
Jj^inevUle  and  J^ta  Nicholas,   J3y  this  time  the  Diligence 


156 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  J  A?.IS. 


was  become  fo  abfolutely  infupportable  to  me,  that  t 
refolved  to  quit  it  for  four  and  twenty  hours,  at  leaft/ 
Gladly  would  I  have  gone  poft  all  the  remainder  of  the 
way  to  Paris,  had  we  not  taken  our  places  at  Straft>urgh,- 
and  paid  twelve  new  louis-d*ors  for  them. 

I  hired  a  cabriolet  to  Toul,  in  which  my  companion, 
my  fervant,  and  myfelf,  proceeded  forwards  the  next 
morning  and  found  it  tolerably  commodious.  The  Dili-* 
gence  had  now  gotten  the  ftart  of  us  very  much.  Wc 
pafled  through  St.  Aubin,  Barleduc,  and  Vitry,  to  Cha<rf 
lons-fur-Marne,  where,  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
we  were  fo  unfcrtunate  as  to  overtake  that  miferable  ve-« 
hide  again. 

Poft-horfes  are  intolerably  dear  in  this  country,  and 
the  regulations  with  regard  to  them,  are  to  me  wholly 
inexplicable.  In  Germany,  if  we  pay  for  three  horfes, 
the  poft-mafter  often  adds  a  fourth  gratis ;  and  it  is  the 
fame  in  Poland  and  Rufiia.  But  in  France,  on  the 
contrary,  if  we  pay  for  three,  which  are  charged  at 
twenty-five  fous  the  mile  each  horfe,  we  are  feldom  al- 
lowed more  than  two.... or,  if  the  third  be  required, 
then  they  are  charged  at  thirty  feus  each.  In  my  opin- 
ion, the  juftice  of  the  thing  would  be,  the  more  horfes 
we  have,  to  pay  fo  much  the  lefs  by  the  head. 

Then,  fmce  we  had  no  chaife  of  our  own,  v/e  were 
generally  required  to  pay  the  price  of  another  horfe  for 
a  little  inconvenient  poft-chaife,  fo  that,  in  all,  we  paid 
for  four  horfes  while  we  ufcd  only  two.  At  Vitry  they 
told  us,  tliat  they  had  only  a  very  heavy  poft-chaiff=', 
fo  that  we  muft  pay  for  an  additional  horfe.    We  ^i^ 


M-Y   FLIGHT   TO   PARIS.  1 57 


fo,  and  ftill  we  had  a  horfe  the  lef*.  OF  tliis  we  com- 
plained, when  the  poft-mafter  faid  "  MeJJieurs,  c\Jl  una 
^race  qu'on  vous  fait,  puis  qu'il  falloit  payer  trenfe  fous 
par  lieue.^*  I  replied,  that  I  had  heard  much  of  the 
foUteJfe  of  the  French  nation,  an4  after  this  inftancc  I 
touldnot  doubt  of  its  truth. 

We  travelled  here  as  expeditioufiy  as  in  Rufiia. 
Whether  this  will  remain  fo  much  longer  may  be  a  ques- 
tion, as,  fince  the  Revolution,  the  roads  have  been  very- 
much  neglefted,  and  are  daily  getting  worfe  and  worfe. 

DECEMBER  I  7. 

In  the  mortiing,  we  were  re-committed  to  our  prifon, 
rind  proceeded  to  Epernay,  the  moft  famous  place  in  the 
whole  country  for  Champagne.  Even  over  me  might 
this  ne6tar  have  extended  its  exhilarating  influence,  had 
not  an  accident,  which,  trifling  as  it  was,  made  a  pow- 
erful impreffion  upon  me,  thrown  me  back  into  my 
former  ftate  of  annihilation,  even  at  the  moment  when 
I  began  to  feel  my  heart  and  my  fpirits  reviving. 

The  walls  and  windows  of  the  room  in  which  v/e 
dined,  were  fcratched  over  with  names  and  verfes,  after 
the  idle  cuflom  fo  prevalent  among  travellers.  I  was 
arauling  myfelf  with  examining  them,  when,  unluckily, 
my  attention  was  caught  by  the  letters  F.  E.  with  a 
crofs,  at  the  corner  of  a  window.* 

o 

*  The  crofs  fubjoined  to  the  initials  is  confidered  as  indicating 
ihat  they  were  in^'cribed  by  fomebody  who  had  juft  loft  fojnc 
very  dear  connection,  T^'ANSlator. 


158 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


Vaniflied  like  a  flafli  cf  lightning,  were  the  artificia 
fpirits  that  the  wine  had  for  a  moment  infpired,  and 
fdl  into  the  moft  gloomy  ribllra6^ion.  Thefe  letter? 
and  the  horrible  crofs,  feemed  to  reproach  me  that 
could  yet  be  fenfible  to  the  joys  of  wine,  when  thofe  o 
love  were  loft  to  m^e  for  ever.  He  who  was  never  in 
Hke  fituation,  may,  perhaps,  fmile  when  I  relate  that 
fecretly  entreated  pardon  of  my  Frcderica  for  havin 
tafted  the  Avine,  Oh  God  !  what  will  become  of  me,  i 
every  trifling  occurrence  can  thus  torture  my  heart  ? 

We  ilopped  this  night  at  Chateau  Thierry.  It  was 
ubout  eight  o'clock  ifi  the  evening  when  we  arrived 
there,  and  we  quitted  the  place  again  at  three  the  next 
morning. 

I  ordered  a  room  to  be  prepared  for  me  diredly,  and 
a  lire  to  be  made  in  it,  for  my  prefent  hum.oyr  was  iU 
afforted  to  the  noify  mirth  of  my  companions.  Here 
I  walked  up  and  down,  talking  to  my  Fredcrica,  while 
they  were  eating  and  diinking  below.  The  night  was 
tempeftuous  ;and  the  roaring  of  the  wind  was  the  miore  aw- 
ful, from  the  town  being  fituated  very  high,  fo  that 
there  was  nothing  to  break  its  force. '  To  this  raging 
of  the  ftorm  without,  was  added  the  crackling  of  the 
fire  within,  and  the  perpetual  creaking  of  the  door, 
that  altogether,  my  foul  was  im.prelTed  with  fenfatiocs 
I  can  hardly  defcribe.  The  war  of  nature  was  co'ngc;r 
nial  with  my  feelings. ...the  hours  I  palTed  here  were 
melancholy,  but  compofmg.  When  I  am  thus  alone, 
my  Frederica  leem.s  with  me.... I  talk  to  her  as  though 
(he  vrere  prelent,  and  pcur  cut  to  her  all  my  heart.  Ah  ' 


MV    FLIGHT   TO  PARIS. 


159 


perhaps  fhe  may  be  really  prefent... .perhaps  (hz  hovers 
about  me  as  my  guardian  angel !  Oh,  why  does  fhe 
not  appear  for  one  moment,  to  give  me  afTurance  of  her 
exiflence  !  How  often  have  I  intreatedit....and,  on  this 
folemn  evening,  I  entreated  it  once  more  ! 

Chateau  Thierry  is  the  birth-place  of  the  admirable  La 
Fontaine.  This  rendered  it  much  more  interefting  to 
me  than  the  celebrated  bridge  over  the  hills  at  Nancy. 

The  night  was  pafTed  entirely  without  fleep  ;  and  fo 
it  muft  have  been  from  the  ftorm,  even  had  my  own 
uneafy  thoughts  not  kept  me  waking.  A  more  violent 
hurricane,  indeed,  I  fcarcely  ever  remember.  It  was 
as  if  Boreas  had  unloofed  all  the  mefTengers  of  his  fury 
into -my  room. 

DECEMBER  l3. 

"We  left  Chateau  Thierry,  dined  at  Meaux,  and  at 
length,  about  fix  in  the  evening,  weary  of  our  journey, 
vreary  almoft  of  life,  arrived  at  Paric. 

I  was  inexprelTibly  mortified  that  it  was  already 
dark  ;  yet  the  (hops  on  both  fides  of  the  ftreets,  prettily 
fet  out  and  handfomely  lighted,  had  a  very  good  effe(51:. 
The  cuflom  of  announcing,  in  large  letters,  over  the 
door  of  each  houfe,  the  name  and  trade  of  the  inhabit- 
ants, pleafed  me  extremely.  This  pradtice,  indeed, 
may  be  obferved  from  the  moment  of  entering  the  domin- 
:ans  of  France.  Almoft  all  the  houfes  have  alfo  figns, 
-  id  thefe  are  ufually  fomething  golden,  as  The  Golden 
Apple,  the  Golden  -Boivl,  The  GoUen  Lion,  The  Golden 
Key,  A  ftrong  charadlerillic  feature  of  French  often- 
tation. 


ltd  MY   FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 

The  tafte  our  forefathers  had  for  gaudy  colours  has 
been  confidered  as  a  fign  of  the  infancy  of  a  nation. 
May  not  this  paffion  for  gold  be  the  diftinftive  ftamp  of 
that  period  of  old  age  when  it  is  falling  back  into  its 
fecond  childhood  ?  This  favourite  Or  (gold)  feems  now, 
boxvever,  in  fome  degree  to  be  fupplanted  by  the  more 
laftiionable  nation  and  nationah  A  few  days  ago  I  faw 
over  a  door  Traiteur  de  la  nation,  A  defperate  under- 
taking, I  thought  within  myfelf,  to  feed  a  whole  hun- 
gry uaticn. 

DECEMBER  I9. 

Were  I  not  in  the  very  vortex  of  diffipation,  the  prc- 
fent  day  mull  fill  me  with  nothing  but  melancholy  ima- 
ges, fince  it  is  the  anniverfary  of  the  inftitution  of  our 
private  theatre  at  Reval.  All  is  now  in  that  town  mirth 
and  jubilee.  On  this  day  laft  year,  my  Virgin  of  the 
Sun  was  performed  for  the  firft  time,  when  my  Frede- 
rica  played  Amizili.  How  becoming  was  the  wreath 
in  her  hair  \  Oh  God,  v/hat  anguifh  of  heart  hes  m 
thefe  recolledlions  ! 

Towards  evening,  we  went  to  walk  in  the  Palais 
Royal.  Schulz  has  defcribed  it  fo  well,  that  I  can  add 
nothing  to  his  defcription.  It  made  a  pleafing,  but  not 
a  grand  impreffion  upon  me.  The  fine  range  of  fiiops 
at  Peterfburgh  is  little  inferior  to  it. 

A  man  invited  us,  with  a  very  earneft  and  noify  elo- 
quence, to  come  in  and  fee  un  homme  fauvage  and  uns 
jeum  Aljactenney  for  only  twelve  fous.  The  homme  fau- 
^age^  was  taken  upon  the  X.ord  knows  what  illand. 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PAT-IS.  161 

had  as  little  of  the  fauvage  in  him  as  myfelf.  He  \va3  a 
a  haadfome  young  fellow,  with  a  phyfiogaomy  fimllar 
13  that  of  Jefas  Chrift.  He  had  a  black  beard,  which 
•d  been  fuffvired  to  grow,  and  the  rell  of  his  drefs  was 
Ttiv  laughable.  P^ound  his  head  he  had  a  wreath  of 
.  tificial  fljvvers,  and  his  outer  garment,  if  garment 
fucii  a  thing  might  be  called,  was  a  large  packthread 
i.jt.  What  ftampedhim  a  favage,  as  far  as  I  could  find, 
was  fimply  that  he  eat  ftones,  as  many  a  man  has  done 
before,  without  incurring  the  like  diHinflion.  He  nrft 
crufhed  the  flints  with  his  teeth,  then  opened  his  mouth 
wide,  to  fhew  them  champed,  then  iwaiiowed  thera, 
aiid  afterwards  let  us  feel  his  flomach,  where,  in  truth, 
we  could  hear  the  clatter  of  a  tolerable  depot.  There 
appeared  to  me  no  deception  in  all  this.. ..the  only  thing 
that  wore  the  femblance  of  deception  was,  that  he  pi  e- 
tended  not  to  be  able  to  fpeak. 

Next  appeared  the  young  Allacian.  She  was  a  girl 
about  twelve  years  old,  painted  like  a  ChriRmas  maik, 
and  dirty  as  a  pig,  wh.o^wanted  to  exhibit  fome  common 
every-day  tricks  upon  the  wire.  I  begged  to  be  excufed 
the  performance;  and,  paying  my  twelve  fous,  departed. 

Another  man  was  no  lefs  vociferous  in  recommending 
to  cur  notice  a  collection  of  wax  figures  as  large  as  life, 
which,  indeed,  we  found  well  worth  feeing.  There 
were,  the  King,  the  Queen,  the  Dauphin,  with  Madame 
Royale,  La  Fayette,  Baillie,  Voltaire,  RoufTeau,  Dr. 
Franklin,  the  two  celebrated  and  interefting  prifoners, 
Maferes  de  la  Tudcand  Baron  Trenck,  the  Indian  Am- 

02 


162 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


bafladors,  who  were  once  here,  Madame  du  Barre,  afleep 
and  fcarcely  half-cloathed,  Maria  Therefa,  Clermont 
Tonnerre,  and  a  muhitude  befides,  all  drefled  according 
to  their  proper  coftume,  and  all,  as  was  generally  agreed, 
extraordinary  likeneffes.  What  would  I  not  have  given 
for  fuch  a  Hkenefs  of  my  Frederica!  Yet  am  I  not  a 
fool?  as  if  her  image  were  not  imprefled  on  my  heart 
much  more  accurately,  and  in  much  more  forcible  colours, 
than  fhe  could  be  reprefented  by  any  artift.  But  had  I 
fuch  a  figure,  I  would  place  it  by  my  fide  at  table,  as 
the  Egyptians  ufed  to  do  vnth  their  mummies.  Ah  I 
this  was  furely  an  excellent  cullom. 

I  could  not  forbear  fmiling  at  feeing  Voltaire  and 
Roufleau  fitting  together  very  farniharly  at  a  little  table, 
appearing  as  if  they  were  demonilrating  fome  propofi- 
tion  perfedly  at  their  eafe,  and  not  caring  for  any  thing 
or  any  body. 

It  is  amufing  to  go  into  the  coffee-houfes  in  the  Palais- 
Royal.  They  are  full  of  affiches,  annonccs,  and  averti/f- 
mens,  fome  of  which  are  very  curious.  For  inllance, 
one  announced  a  fervant  wanted,  w^ho,  befides  his  mother- 
tongue,  French,  muft  underftand  German,  Italian,  and 
Enghfh.  He  muft  alfo  be  able  to  (have,  to  drefs  hair, 
to  cook,  to  take  care  of  horfes,  to  drive  a  cabriolet,  &c. 
&c.  &c.  I  wifhed  very  much  to  know  what  could  be 
included  in  the  et  cetera. 

Here,  and  every  where,  there  is  fuch  an  eternal  ring- 
ing of  changes  upon  liberty,  and  whatever  has  any  rela- 
tion to  it,  that  it  is  really  fatiguing.  Our  hair-dreffer, 
who  is  a  member  of  the  national  guard,  and  a  moft  zea^^ 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


lous  democrat,  never  calls  the  king  any  thing  but  le  pau- 
mre  homme;  and  the  queen  is  commonly  la  coqjihiey  la 
m'lferdhle  femme  du  rot.  If  he  be  in  a  particularly  com- 
placent humour,  however,  then  it  is  la  femme  de  Louis 
feize;  and  if  in  a  particularly  farcaftic  one,  then  la  femme 
du  pouvotr  executf  No  fcruple  is  made  of  faying,  that 
it  was  a  very  great  pity  the  Queen  efcaped  on  the  fixth 
of  October,  when  her  fate  was  fo  nearly  decided. 

The  people  are  in  great  alarm,  left  the  Emperor  Leo- 
pold  fliould  fend  troops  iuto  France.  It  is  faid,  that  a 
letter  was  lately  laid  under  the  Queen's  napkin,  threaten- 
ing that,  in  cafe  her  brother  fhould  dare  to  take  any  fteps 
again  ft  French  liberty,  her  head  ftiould  be  fent  to  him 
upon  a  pike. 

Some  days  ago  a  dreadful  fcene  took  place  at  theopera» 
The  piece  performed  was  Iphigenia.  At  the  chorus 
chantons,  celehrons  notre  mW,  the  Dutchefs  of  Biron,  and 
fome  other  in  the  neighbouring  boxes,  clapped,  and  ap- 
plauded extremely,  and  called  encore!  encore!  which  is 
not  ufual  at  the  opera.  The  performers,  however,  ven- 
tured to  repeat  the  chorus,  when  the  Dutchefs  threw  a 
laurel  wreath  upon  the  ftage.  This  was  enough,  and 
more  than  enough,  to  roufe  the  people's  fury.  They 
hiffed,  they  cried,  they  gave  the  Dutchefs  very  oppro- 
brious epithets. ...they  got  oranges,  apples,  and  pears, 
both  hard  and  foft,  and  pelted  her  fo  that  her  box  was 
foon  Hke  a  fruit-lhop,  and  fhe  herfelf  all  over  bruifes.... 
fortunately,  a  knife  that  was  thrown,  miffed  her.  Sonie 
among  the  populace,  more  wanton  than  wicked,  brought 
in  a  bundle  of  rods  to  chaftife  her  before  the  eyes  of  the 


161 


MY    ILIGHT    TO  PARIS. 


v/hoL^  public.  She  had  fufficient  prefence  of  mind  to 
keep  her  feat,  End  let  them  gc  on,  with  perfeft  compofure. 
Had  fhe  qu'ttcd  her  box,  th?y  had  probably  broke  into 
the  faiOon....and  had  ilie  attempted  to  fay  a  fxngle  word, 
or  to  make  any  cifenfive  gefture,  they  had  probably 
broke  into  her  box. 

At  length  all  was  quiet.  The  Diitchefs  had  all  the 
apples,  pears,  and  oranges,  and,  above  all,  the  knife,  col- 
lefhed  together,  and  fent  them  the  next  morning  to  the 
Marquis  de  la  Fayette,  with  her  compliments,  and  fhe 
had  fent  him  fome Jlrihng  teftimonies  of  French  freedom, 
which  fhe  requeued  him  to  offer  upon  the  altar  of  liberty 
in  her  name. 

On  the  following  day,  Enne,  the  player,  who  was  the 
principal  orfender  in  the  repetition  of  the  chorus,  was 
compelled  to  make  a  very  fubmiffive  apology  for  his  con- 
duct, and  to  trample  the  laurel  wreath  under  his  feet.* 

Proofs  of  the  licentioufnefs  of  the  people  may  be  col- 
Ic6led  daily  in  abundance.  The  driver  of  the  Jiacre,  in 
which  we  returned  yefterday  evening  to  the  Ruflian  and 
Englifh  hotel,  where  we  lodge,  called  my  companion  mon 
emu    The  latter  replied,  with  a  fmJle,  "  Do  you  really 

*  Without  confidering  the  conducfl  of  the  people  as  juftifia- 
ble,  yet,  furely,  the  Dutchefs  of  Biron's  was  highly  cenfurable. 
It  appears,  that  to  encore  at  all  was  very  unufual  in  fuch  a  per- 
formance; and,  to  fcledl  for  this  purpofe  a  pafTage  which,  in  the 
then  temper  of  the  times,  muft  be  obvioufly  ofFenfive  to  the  popu- 
lace, was  throwing  down  the  gauntlet,  and  abfolutely  inviting 
the  diflurbance  that  cnfued,  when  no  pofliblc  good  effed;  could 
arife  from  it.  If  a  perfon  of  her  rank  could  fo  far  degrade  her- 
feif  as  to  court  a  conteft,  was  it  to  he  expeded  that  the  lefs  cul- 
tivated mafs  Ihould  decline  it?  Translatok. 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


165 


belicTe  me  your  friend?  "Ah,  bah!  bah!**  faid  the 
driver,  "  we  are  all  equal." 

Our  valet  place,  alfo,  after  having  called  us  a  coach, 
to  go  to  the  opera,  dcfired  leave,  without  any  ceremony, 
to  get  in,  **  bscaufe,"  he  faid>  "  the  weather  was  very 
bad." 

I  was  pleafed  with  the  opera  itfelf,  but  feveral  othee 
things  crofied  and  teazed  me.  Though  we  went  by  five 
o'clock,  the  houfe  was  already  full,  and  we  could  only, 
v/ith  difficulty,  get  places  in  the  balcony;  that  is  to  fay, 
in  a  fort  of  very  large  box,  of  which  there  is  one  on  each 
fide  the  theatre.  For  thefe  feats  we  gave  ten  livres,  half 
a  louis  4'or....dear  enough  in  my  opinion.  However,  I 
Ihould  not  have  complained  had  we  fecn  well,  but  th^t 
was  by  no  means  the  cafe,  for  even  this  place  was  fo 
crowded  that  it  was  impolfible  to  fee  over  more  than  half 
the  ftage. 

In  the  boxes,  I  muft  own,  there  was  a  confiderable 
difpiay  of  beauty,  but  it  v/?s  artificial  beauty.  Ah!  no 
where  did  I  fee  a  Frederica!  no  where  the  expreffion  of 
artlefs  goodnefs,  fo  confpicucus  in  every  feature  of  her 
face! 

A  very  poh'te  young  man,  who  ftood  next  to  me, 
/hewed  me  a  Madame  Gouverne,  who,  he  faid,  was 
efteemed  the-handfomeft  woman  in  Paris.  He  might  be 
right.  She  did,  indeed,  appear  extremely  handfome; 
and  had  much  of  that  gentlenefs  and  grace,  without 
which  no  woman  can  be  attractive  in  my  eyes. 

The  performance  was  Les  Pretendus^  a  comic  opera. 
The  mufic  and  fingers  were  excellent,  and  the  latter  were 


166 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


fclio  good  afbors  and  adlrcfies,  which  is  feldcm  the  cafe 
on  our  German  ftage,  and  it  is  a  great  difadvantage  to 
the  piece.  The  enLertainments  of  the  evening  concluded 
Vv  ith  the  fplendid  ballad  of  Pfyche,  at  prefent  a  reigning 
favouvite  with  the  public.  The  general  impreffion  it 
made  upon  me  was  not  powerful;  but,  with  particular 
palTages,  and  parts  of  the  machinery,  I  v/as  extremely 
charmed.  I  muft  inflance  particularly  that  were  Pfyche 
lis  carried  away  by  a  Zephyr,  in  a  cloud,  from  the  top 
of  a  rugged  rock,  when,  juft  as  fhe  difappears,  a  long 
and  beautiful  ft  ream  of  light  is  left  behind....  Again, 
v/here  fhe  is  fitting  at  her  toilette,  v-ith  little  Cupids 
fluttering  round  her.. ..And  where,  alfo,  (he  appears  as 
the  fcTiolar  of  Terpfichore.  All  thefe  made,  in  part  a 
ftrong,  in  part  a  pathetic,  impreffion  upon  my  fenfes. 

To  the  dancingj  that  is  to  fay  to  the  throwing  the 
arms  and  legs  about,  and  the  jumping  and  bounding,  I 
am  net  very  partial ;  nor  could  I  feel  much  pleafure  even 
in  Veftris^s  folo  and  pas-de-deux  as  Amor.  But  I  was 
extremely  pleafed  with  the  Zephyrs,  which,  indeed, 
feemed  rather  to  fly  than  to  move  as  human  beings. 
Hercules  was  the  very  counterpart  of  the  ftone-eater  we 
had  feen  in  the  morning.  Some  things  appeared  to  me 
too  horrible  for  a  ballad.  For  inftance,  the  manner  in 
which  Pfyche  is  pulled  about,  and  the  contortions  into 
which  her  body  is  throv/n  when  (he  falls  into  the  hands 
cf  fome  dozen  or  two  of  devils;  as  well  as  her  being  pre- 
cipitated from  a  high  rock  into  the  burning  Phlegethon. 
The  woman  who  played  Pfyche,  was  a  lovely  creature 
indeed,  ar.d  affumed  fo  much  innocence  in  her  appear- 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS, 


167 


aace,  that  no  one  could  have  fuppofed  her  a  dancer  at  th^ 
great  opera  at  Paris. 

I  could  not  at  lafl  decide  whether  the  performance, 
take  it  all  together,  was  worth  half  a  louis  d'or ;  but 
this  I  know  fcr  certain,  that  I  would  not  for  ten  loui^ 
d'ors  endure  again  what  we  went  through  after  the  enr 
tertainments  were  finiihed.  We  had  prepared  ourfelves 
for  waiting  half  an  hour  before  the  crowd  could  be  fuffii^ 
ciently  difperfed  to  permit  the  leaving  our  box  ;  but 
alas  !  we  had  to  fpend  another  fatiguing  half  hour  in  the 
faloon  ere  we  could  venture  to  feek  our  fervant  in  the 
hope  of  getting  away.  Here  we  ftood  furrounded  on 
all  fides  by  draughts  of  wind,  and  if  we  attempted  to 
get  out  of  them  by  going  into  a  box,  we  were  almoll 
fuiFocated  by  the  fmell  of  extinguifhing  the  lamps.  To 
complete  the  matter,  when  we  did  find  the  fervant,  no 
Jiacre  was  to  be  had,  which  conliderably  prolonged  our 
torments  ;  and  when  at  laft,  even  this  difficulty  was 
furmounted,  we  were  affailed  with  fuch  a  piercing  wind 
and  fnow,  blowing  diredlly  in  our  faces  as  we  came  out 
of  the  houfe,  that  for  myfelf,  poor  hypochondriacal 
valetudinarian  as  I  was,  I  thought  it  would  have  fent  me 
again  to  the  brink  of  the  grave. 

At  getting  into  the  carriage,  I  was  prefented  with  a 
pew  trait  of  French  vanity,  at  which,  notwithftanding  my 
ill-humour,  and  my  frozen  cheeks,  I  could  not  forbear 
imihng.  A  Savoyard  canie  up,  begging  fomething  to 
drink,  as  he  had  procured  the  carriage.  I  told  him 
:hat  was  done  by  my  own  fervant.  He  afierted  to  the 
;ontrary,  when,  at  length,  the  lacquey  cqrifefTed  that 


16S 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


he  did  not  like  to  dirty  his  ftockings,  fo  had  fent  the 
Savoyard  inftead  of  going  himfelf.  I  told  him  that  he 
was  very  welcome  to  fend  whom  he  pleafed,  but  then 
he  muft  be  pleafed  alfo  to  pay  him  himfelf.  In  this  he 
acquiefced  after  fome  oppofition,  and  we  proceeded 
homewards. 

We  had  not  gone  many  fteps,  before  we  were  Hopped 
by  a  voice  of  complaint,  when  our  driver  begged  that 
we  would  permit  a  gentleman,  who  was  going  to  the 
Palais-royal  as  well  as  ourfelves,  to  take  the  fourth 
place  in  the  carriage*  the  third  being  occupied  again 
our  valet.  We  very  readily  confented,  and  a  well- 
;dreffed  man  got  in,  who,  with  the  true  French  eafe,  was 
acquainted  with  us  in  a  moment,  and  had  run  over 
every  poffible  topic  of  converfation  in  a  quarter  of  an 
hour. 

We  expreffed  a  wifli  to  be  prefent  at  a  debate  in  the 
I^ational  Afiembly.  He  told  us  that  we  could  not  be 
Tkdmitted  without  tickets,  but  as  he  was  himfelf  a  depu- 
ty, he  Ihould  have  very  great  pleafure  in  procuring  them 
for  us  ;  an  offer  which  we  accepted  with  many  thanks, 
I  do  not  even  nov/  know  who  this  man  was,  for  'tis  one 
pf  my  ftieepifh  follies  that  I  never  can  aflc  any  perfon  his 
name,  and  I  as  little  like  to  give  my  own  to  another, 
I  did,  however,  give  him  both  that  and  my  addrefs, 
aad  hope  to  hear  farther  from  him. 

Our  fellow-countryman  Schuiz  lodged  in  the  very 
fame  hotel  that  we  inhabit,  and  is  remembered  here,  as 
he  always  will  be  wherever  he  goes,  with  kindnefs  and 
attachment.    Both  our  hoft,  and  the  barber^  who  ha4 


MY  rLiGirr  to  parts. 


the  Konour  of  dreffing  his  hair,  call  him  Ifon  enfant^  and 
probably  think  they  confer  a  great  honour  upon  him,  as 
9  German,  by  giving  him  fo  familiar  an  appellation. 

DECEMBER  20. 

Tin,  leather,  and  paper,  have  often  been  llamped  as 
xnoney  in  times  of  neceffity.    At  prefent  fcarcely  any 
other  money  is  to  be  feen  here  but  fcraps  of  paper, 
called  affignats,  ftamped  with  a  head  of  the  king.  The 
Jeaft  are  for  two  hundred  livres. 

1  was  this  morning  with  my  banker,  Monfieur  Perrc- 
gaux,  to  get  a  bill  of  exchange  for  two  thoufand  livre* 
difcouMtcd. 

"  What  (hall  I  do  with  thefe  faid  I,  aa  he  was 
paying  me  with  this  new-fafliioned  coin. 

«  We  have  no  other,"  faid  he,  flirugging  his  fhoul- 
ders. 

"  That  is  melancholy,"  faid  I. 

"  Extremely  fo,"  he  rejoined,  and  wifiied  me  good 
morning. 

I  loll  live  per  cent,  in  getting  my  paper  exchanged, 
yet  to  exchange  it  was  abfolutely  necelTary,  fince  there 
are  a  thoufand  trifling  expences  below  the  fum  of  two 
hundred  francs.  I  now  underftand  perfe<£lly  what  the 
Savoyards  meant,  who  aflailed  me  by  dozens  the  other 
day  in  the  Palais-royal,  crying,  Fouiez  vous  de  l^argent^ 
Monjicur  P  at  the  fame  time  clinking  their  full  purfes  in. 
my  ears.  I  thought  at  the  time  it  was  only  imperti^ 
nent  baater. 

P 


no 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS 


This  dny  we  went  to  the  Boulevards  to  fee  ks  grands 
ianjcurs  du  rot,  who,  indeed,  are  no  dancers  at  all 
They  have  fcarcely  even  fo  much  of  t^e  great  in  them 
as  the  king,  their  mafter,  and  as  little  defcrve  their  pcJm 
pous  title  as  the  Arclibifhops  of  Chalccdonia,  Tarfus 
Joppa,  and  others.  How  they  came  by  it  heaven  only 
knows,  but  the  king  can  certainly  never  have  feen  hi^ 
grands  danfeurs. 

The  theatre  would  have  done  fome  credit  to  a  littfc 
provincial  tpvvn  in  Geimany.  The  beft  places  were 
only  thirty  fous,  about  fix  times  lefs  than  the  cpera. 

*'  And  the  perfcrmaace  is  fix  times  kfs  entertaining 
perhaps  it  may  be  afked. 

To  that  I  make  no  anfwer.  We  went  thither  about 
half  after  five,  when  we  found  a  parcel  of  very  dirty,  un^ 
healthy  looking  children,  dancirig  upon  the  rope,  which 
tbey  called  an  entertainment,  though  I  could  not  find 
that  it  entertained  any  body.  However,  we  will  not 
quarrel  about  a  name  ;  'tis  ever  thus  in  the  world  at 
large. 

At  fix  the  regular  play  began  ;  it  was,  The  Qyjlsr 
F'ifhery,  Four  women  fcoldcd  and  abufed  their  hus- 
l^ands  unmercifully,  often  ufmg  very  indecent  language, 
particularly  grofs  and  broad  douhk  entsndre*  Yet  the 
performers  played  with  an  cafe,  vivacity,  nature,  and 
truth,  that  was  truly  admirable  ;  ar.d  fuch  as  I  never 
witnefTed  upon  the  mofi:  celebrated  German  ilage.  They 
were  always  ready  v/ilh  i:epartee,  never  htfitating,  or 
v/anting  tlie  airillance  of  the  prompter  ;  yet  their  wit 
was  not  pointed  improperly,  as  is  fu  commo-Jy  the  cafp 


My  flight  to  PARIS. 


171 


with  o:ir  German  performers.  In  (hort,  ibey  kept  mj 
involuntarily  in  a  conilaiit  laugh. 

I  have  obferved  that  man/  of  the  Parifian  theatres 
have  no  prompter,  and  even  \7here  there  is  one,  he  does 
not  ^lt  in  the  ciirfed  bee-hive  a3  among  U3,  but  is  funk 
below  the  flage  that  his  eyes  are  juH  parallel  with  it, 
and  his  heid  is  entirely  conceaLd  by  the  lamps.  I  wifh 
the  vile  cu^lom  of  prompting  v/as  entirely  aboli^cd,  and 
then  players  -vToiild  bi  conftrained  to  fludy  their  parts 
thoroughly,  nor  would  our  ears  any  longer  be  offended 
with  their  eternal  blunders  and  hefitation.  Here  the 
performers  were  all  fo  perfe^fl,  and  had  fo  completely 
acquired  the  tone  of  converfation,  that  all  idea  of  pre- 
vious iludy  was  loft,  and  they  had  cXafbly  the  appear- 
ance of  a  number  of  perfons  met  together,  and  adlually 
converfing. 

After  Tke  Oyjlsr  Fifiery,  was  performed  a  little  piece, 
called  Ualli  CQurt-d'insr.  It  was  wholly  devoid  of 
plot,  but  contained  many  truly  comic  fcenes,  and,  by  the 
perfect  cafe  of  the  performers,  was  rendered  extremely 
pkafant. 

The  entertainments  concluded  with  a  pantomime  in 
fouracls,  entitled,  The  Mctamorphofes  of  the  benevolent 
Fairy.  It  was  a  true  Italian  comedy  with  a  harlequin, 
and  fatigued  me  exceedingly.  The  machinery  was  bad, 
the  dreffts  dirty  and  devoid  of  tafte....and,  in  fliort,  I 
had  feen  the  fame  kind  of  performance  in  a  far  better 
ftyle  at  Peterfburgh  in  the  year  1782.  In  fpite  of  the 
I'dicule  of  my  friends,  I  feldom  miffed  the  Italian  come- 
dy there,  for  I  could  always  laugh  at  it  heartily,  and  I 


112 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PAKiS, 


own  I  like  a  laugh,  even  though  reafon  may  not  be  o. 
my  fide.  The  world  in  general  had  no  conception 
how  any  body  could  be  amufed  with  fuch  abfurdlty,  yet 
all  the  world  went,  and  all  laughed  as  well  as  myfelf; 
The  difference  was,  that  they  were  afhamed  to  confefa. 
they  found  it  laughable,  and  I  confeffed  it  at  once 
without  any  fuame  at  all. 

I  returned  to  the  grands  dav.feurs  du  rcu  The  con* 
c]v:f  Oil  of  their  cxhibit:;cn3  was  a  very  licentious  piec^*  ' 
called  JLes  quaere  Rendc%vaus,  clofing  with  a  fe}e  cham" 
petrCf  in  which  thefe  grands  danfeurs  danced  very  vilely* 
Yet,  what  better  could  be  expeded  for  thirty  fous  ? 

In  the  courfe  of  the  evening  tv/o  ladies  of  pleafure 
ftcle  into  the  box  where  we  were  feated.  As  I  have 
mentioned  this  clafs  of  females,  I  cannot  help  obferving, 
that  during  the  v/hole  time  I  was  at  Paris,  I  never  faw 
one  who  could  poffibly  have  attr<i£ied  a  man  with  the 
leail  refinement  of  tafte.  A  fhamelefs  impudence  was 
ilamped  upon  every  countenance ;  and  the  eyes  in  which, 
perhaps,  in  the  days  of  youth  and  innocence,  thoufands 
of  lovely  Cupids  had  played,  were  transformed  into  the 
couch  of  ficknefs  and  difeafe.  The  pallid  hue  their 
complexions  had  acqiiired,  from  the  loathfome  lives  they 
lead,  was  difguifed  by  a  thick  coat  of  paint,  which,  at 
the  fame  time,  gave  a  degree  of  vivacity  to  their  hollowj 
deadened  eyes.  This  is  a  true  pifture  of  this  miferable 
race;  and  I  was  in  the  conftant  habit  of  feeing  no  incon- 
iiderable  number,  fince  they  fwarm  in  the  Palais-Royal. 
In  a  box  oppofite  to  us  fat  one  in  men*s  clothes,  but  fo 
j>ut  oa  that  fhe  muft  inftantly  be  reco^^iiaed  as  a  female* 


.MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


173 


She  was  in  the  right  to  wear  this  drefs,  for  her  difagree- 
able  face  was  almofl  lod  in  the  high,  red  collar  to  her 
coat. 

But  to  return  to  our  companions.  They  feated  tiiem- 
>  felves  very  coolly,  and,  although  we  talked  German,  fo 
that  they  muft  perceive  we  were  foreigners,  feemed 
ftrongly  incHned  to  attach  themfelves  to  us.  One  of 
them  foon  addrelTed  us,  "  From  England,  I  fuppofe, 
gentlemen 

**  Yes,**  anfwered  my  friend. 

I  obferved  that  the  lady  who  aflced  the  queftion  im- 
mediately began  to  fpeak  French,  in  a  broken,  drawhng 
^  manner,  although  fne  had  previoufly  talked  it  with  the 
utmoft  fluency.  I  remarked  upon  her  manner  of  fpeak- 
ing,  and  enquired  the  reafon  of  it. 

"I  am  not  a  French  woman,  Monfieur,"  faid  fiiej  **  I 
am  a  German.'* 

**  From  what  part  of  Germany  ?'*  I  afked. 

**  From  Vienna,"  fhe  replied.  A  humorous  falfehood, 
for  we  had  been  talking  German  together  for  fome  time, 
w^hich  fhe  millook  for  EngliHi;  but,  I  fuppofe,  perceiving 
that  we  were  foreigners,  fhe  thought  it  would  be  a  re- 
commendation of  herfclf  to  afTume  the  foreigner  too. 

When  we  ceafcd  converfing  with  them,  they  began 
talking  to  each  other  of  fuch  a  traiteur,  or  fuch  a  rc' 
jlaurateur^  where  excellent  fuppers  v/ere  provided.  This 
was  evidently  intended  as  an  avis  au  IcSsur :  I,  however, 
v/ent  home,  and  eat  my  fimple  apple  €omp6t  very  quietly 
in  my  own  room« 

P  2 


174 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


Unhappy  creatures !  Ah !  a  man  muft  have  poffefTecI 
a  wife  like  mine,  not  to  be  difgufted  with  the  whole  fex? 
from  the  fpecimen  you  furnifhed. 

DECEMBER.  21. 

On  this  day  a  wretched  culprit  was  broke  upon  the 
wheel  in  the  Place  de  Greve.  I  cautiouily  avoided  ftir- 
ring  out  the  whole  morning,  left  my  ill  ftars  (hould  lead 
me  into  the  way  of  fo  horrible  a  fcene. 

I  conftantly  devote  a  part  of  every  forenoon  to  ti 
Palais-Royal,  fpending  it  fometimes  in  the  Cafe  de 
Chartres,  to  read  the  German  newfpapers;  or  ia  Cuffac, 
the  book-feller's  fnop ;  or  araong  the  bufy,  bultling 
crowd,  where  my  ears  are  deafened  by  the  noife  of  a  thou- 
fand  criers,  and  my  eyes  diftra£led  by  a  thoufand  elegant 
objedls,  which  luxury,  united  with  the  love  of  gain,  places 
in  the  lhop-windou  s. 

We  fpent  the  evening  at  Mademoifelle  de  Montanfier's 
theatre  in  the  Palais-Royal.  A  little  opera  was  per* 
formed  in  the  ufual  ftyle  of  fuch  pieces,  poor,  both  ill 
body  and  foul.o.vthat  is  to  fay,  both  in  mufic  and  dia- 
logue. The  only  comic  part  was  a  gormandizing  Abbe, 
who,  in  a  humorous  fong,  complained  that  the  ecclefi- 
allies  had  been  deprived  of  their  property.  Such  ftrokec 
are  always  received  with  peals  of  applaufe. 

This  little  opera  was  followed  by  Le  Sourdf  ou  L* Au- 
herge  pleln,  a  comedy,  or  rather  a  farce,  in  three  adls. 
Yet,  as  a  farce,  it  is  of  a  fupcrior  kind;  and,  I  think, 
would  be  well  received  upon  the  German  ftage.  In  one 
fcencj  where  the  action  paffes  ia  two  different  rooms  at 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


175 


the  fame  time,  the  fcenery  was  uncommonly  well  managed. 
In  the  front  was  a  dining-hall,  with  fome  fteps  in  the 
back  ground  leading  to  a  chamber,  about  half  of  which 
was  vifible  through  a  window  into  the  dini^g-hall;  a 
y  mode  of  building  not  unufual  ia  old  manfions.  Behind 
this  window  a  part  of  the  a6tion  was  going  forwards,  con- 
ne6led  with  what  v/as  paliing  at  the  fame  time  in  the 
front  room,  and  had  an  extremely  good  effeil.  At  the 
end  of  this  Icene  the  deaf  man  drew  the  curtain  again 
before  the  window,  and  then  the  ftage  appeared  undi- 
vided. 

I  was  afterwards  introduced  to  the  author  of  this 
piece,  Monfieur  des  Farges.    It  is  not  yet  printed,  but 
i    he  was  fo  polite  as  to  lend  me  his  manufcript,  of  which 
I  may  very  probably  make  fora  ^  ufe. 

Here,  again,  we  found  abundance  of  ladies  of  pleafurc 
affembled,  who  were,  as  ufual,  extremely  troublefome. 
One  of  them  thruil  her  addrefs  into  my  companion's 
hand:  Mademolfelle  Adelaide.,  au  Palais-Roy aU  au  nomhrg 
quatre-vingts  huit,  par  le  derriere.  And  there  fhe  may 
remain  for  me. 

DECEMBER  22i 

This  morning  I  received  a  vifit  from  Madame  de  Romcy 
the  tranflator  of  my  Adelaide  of  Wulfingen.  Siie  had  put 
her  tranflation  into  the  hands  of  the  perfo-mers  at  Mon- 
fieur's  theatre,  and  was  in  daily  expeftation  of  their  de- 
cifion  upon  it.  For  my  own  part,  I  am  thoroughly 
convinced,  that  if,  for  the  fake  cf  f^me  fcenes,  the 
piece,  in  its  original  form,  deferved  to  liv*",  Frenchified 
it  now  is,  it  defcr-'es  notliing  but  damnation. 


176  MY   FLIGHT   TO  PATIIS. 

Madame  de  Rome  h?.s  ?n  idea  of  honouring  me  farthei 
with  trauflating  Mlfanthropy  and  Repentance^  but  this 
alio  muft  undergo  a  purgation.  "  An  adultrefs!  no, 
that  will  never  do !  She  muft  only  be  a  little  indifcreet 

**  BonP'  fay  I. ...Then  there  are  too  many  chara6lers 
....fome  of  them  muft  be  difcarded.  The  General,  the 
Old-man,  and  Bitterman,  cannot  by  any  means  be  alio\?' 
ed  a  place  in  the  French  Mlfanthropy  and  Repentance* 

That,  alfo,  might  pafs;  but,  befides,  there  are  not  con- 
fidents enough  in  the  play,  and  the  fair  tranflator  rr.ufl 
fupply  my  deficiency.  Upon  which  among  the  dramatis 
perfonae  will  it  be  fuppofed  her  choice  has  fallen  for  fill- 
ing this  important  office?  Neither  more  nor  lefs  than 
Mafter  Peter,  whom  fhe  thus  exalts  into  the  pivot  on 
which  the  whole  intrigue  turns.  He  is  the  Major's  con- 
fident, and  the  friend  and  companion  of  Francis,  with 
whom  he  plots  and  contrives  till  the  mifantbrope  is  made 
to  dance  to  their  pipe,  and  the  denouement  is  brought 
about. 

This  is  fine,  indeed  I 

The  only  really  fuperfluous  perfon  in  my  drama,  I  mean 
Charlotte,  is  to  Le  retained.  Indeed,  if  this  plan  of 
tranflation  is  carried  into  elTed^,  nothing  will  remain  of 
Mifanthrcpy  and  Repentance^  but  repentance  in  my  bofom 
for  having  v/ritten  it.  If  it  be  not  fuited  to  the  French 
llage  as  it  came  out  of  my  hands,  rather  may  it  remain 
untranflated. 

It  cannot  remain  as  it  is,"  faid  Madame  de  Rome  \ 
**  the  French  are  too  far  removed  from  nature  to  endure 
it.'^   A  very  high  eulogiurj^  on  me,  I  thought  within 


MY   FLIGHT  TO  PARIf^, 


myfelf;  if  on  that  account  alone  they  deviate  from  th© 
fpirit  of  my  work. 

For  the  reft,  Madame  de  Rome  interefted  me  extreme- 
ly.  She  appears  an  amiable  and  cultivated  woman,  and 

.  talks  both  much  and  wdL  She  belongs  to  the  party  re- 
probated here  as  ariflocratic,  for  her  hufband  was  an  offi- 
cer, and  a  chevdlcr  of  the  order  of  St.  Louis,  a  man 

\  fomev.'hat  advanced  in  years,  and  precipitated  into  his 
grave  by  the  (Commotions  of  the  revolution.  For  five 
days  and  nights  fhe  affured  me  that  they  never  thought 
their  lives  fecure  in  their  own  apartments  a  fingle  mo- 
mejit.  Sometimes  her  hufband  wa3  menaced  with  death 
....fometimes  the  populace  wanted  to  place  him  at  the 
head  of  a  band  cf  mutineers. ...fometimes  they  threat- 
ened to  plunder  and  burn  down  the  houfe.  ^'BcfidcGjthe 
National  Affembly,"  fhe  faid,  "  had  deprived  her  of  a 
penl2on....And  not  only  that,"  flie  added,  with  great 
cagernefs,  "  but  I  muft  not  even  retain  my  arms.  If  I 
want  to  feal  a  letter,  I  mull  prefs  it  together  with  rry 
thumb.'* 

I  imagine  that  fhe  now  maintains  herfelf  principally 
by  v/rlting,  though  her  appearance  was  fmart,  and  net  a 
fyllable  of  complaint,  or  hint  of  a  wifh  for  afiift- 
ance  from  any  other  hand,  efcaped  her  lips.  She 
alfured  me  that  fhe  might  earn  a  great  deal  of  money, 
if  (he  v/ould  only  eniifl  among  the  wild  crew  who  are 
daily  inundating  the  public  with  pamphlets  againil  the 
court,  in  which  the  Queen  is  called  nothing  but  ^execrable 
u^ntolnette,  and  la  miferahle  femme  du  rot.  Madame  de 
Rome  alfo  confinned  what  I  have  mentioned  before,  that 


17B 


MY  I  LIGHT  TO  PARI*; 


the  mllden:  wippellation  ever  given  her,  is  la  fe^nme  du  roi,~ 
and  this  is  confidcred  as  an  uncommon  exertion  of  for- 
bearance. 

Slie  prcfcnted  nie  whh  a  copy  of  the  Anicdotes  of  Jo  - 
feph  ihe  Second,  which  file  had  tranflated,  and  of  v/hich 
fcarccly  a  hundred  h?.d  b.^cn  fold.  She  afcribtd  the  ill 
fuccefs  of  this  fpeculation,  to  the  mortal  hatred  indifcri^ 
tiiiuately  borne  here,  towards  every  member  of  the  houfe 
cf  Aiidria. 

By  her  I  was  informed  that  a  fnuff  dealer  at  Nancy 
}»ai.  idea  of  pubhfiiing  a  German  theatre.  Woe  to 
us  p  :or  Germans  I 

But  nothing  during  my  interview  v/:th  this  lady, 
pierced  my  bofom  fo  deeply  as  when  (he  mentioned  the 
lofs  of  her  hn-'band.  There,  indeed,  fhe  touched  a  firing 
in  W.J  heart  that  v'b'-ated  moO;  fi:elingly  in  uiiifon  with 
her  G\vn..i. and  ytt^  hwv  m.uch  happier  v/as  fhe....how 
tTiUcb  happier  was  her  hiifb-md  than  myfelf  I  They  had 
lived  together  in  the  joy  ^  of  wjdljck  for  five-aad -twenty 
years,  and  (he  became  Dot  a  widow  till  advanced  in  life, 
I  poiTefTed  my  Frederica  only  fix  yeaj-s,  and  want  yet 
fome  months  of  be  tliirty  years  old!  All  the  hap' 
pinefs  I  can  ever  experience  was  comprefTed  together 
v/ithin  that  fhort  fpace.  Ah  !  why  v/ere  my  days  of 
blifs  fo  few. ...why  did  not  fate  referve  fome  drops  of 
tranfport  to  footh  me  in  the  vale  of  declining  age  ! 
Since  We  are  then  once  more  children,  the  toys  of  nature, 
v/hy  is  it  denied  me  to  do  like  children  with  their  cakes 
and  fweetmeats,  to  referve  the  moft  delicious  morfel  for 
the  iaft !  Or,  fmce  I  perhaps  am  to  be  early  called 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS.  170 

?iway  from  a  table,  where  for  me  there  i»  no  more  en-^ 
joyment,  it  may  be  that  my  Frederica  is  only  fummon- 
cd  firfl,  to  wait  and  receive  me  at  the  door,  where  I 
have  long  been  ftanding,  that  I  may  hear  it  cloftd  be-. 
Ijind  me  without  repining,  nor  feel  too  deeply  the  voices 
of  my  poor  infants  as  they  ftrive  to  call  me  back. 

Oh  heaven  !  how  the  Icaft  circumftancc  leads  me 
back  lo  this  one  fatal  point  ! 

JLet  me,  let  me  return  to  Paris,  where  every  one  cn^ 
joys,  and  no  one  feels.. ..where  every  one  " participat eS| 
yet  no  one  fympathizes. 

The  morning  was  very  fine,  and  we  went  out  to  take 
*  walk.  We  pafTed  through  the  bufy  tumultuous  Rue 
Si.  Honor e  to  the  Place  de  Louis  quitize,  and  thence  to 
the  Thuilleries.  The  genial  mildnefs  of  the  weather 
li'dd  invited  many  others,  like  ourfelves,  into  ihe  air.  A 
number  of  people  were  reclining  beneath  the  v/all  on  the 
left  hand  of  the  gardens,  particularly  women  and  chil- 
dren, to  enjoy  the  faint  wintry  rays  of  the  benignant 
fun.  The  fight  was  foothing  and  interefting.  I  thought 
of  the  well-known  horrors  committed  by  the  Prince  de 
i  Lambefc  on  the  very  fame  fpot,  and  could  not  forbear 
Gontrafting  them  in  idea  with  the  tranquil  fcene  beforq 
me.  It  was  a  contrail  by  which  the  latter  did  not  fuf-^ 
fer. 

I  remember  once  reading,  but  where  I  cannot  recoi- 
led, of  a  little  rural  collage,  which >  placed  amid  the 
pompous  ruins  cf  fome  magnificent  building,  defcrcyed 
by  an  earthquake,  makes  an  undefcribable  impreflion 
upou  the  traveller.    I  figure  to  myfelf  that  I  mull  hav^ 


I/IY   FLIGHT   TO  i'AFvlS. 


felt  mucli  the  fame  iniprefTion  at  the  fcene  I  beheld  i 
the  Thuilleries. 

We  went  for  a  few  moments  into  the  inner  court  o 
the  palace.    We  found  Swifs  foldiers  and  National 
Guards  every  where  keeping  fentry  indifcriminately 
yet  methought  they  c.afl  oblique  glances  at  each  otherr 
like  good  and  evil  angeh  waiting  together  the  departu 
of  a  foul,  which  both  have  ftretched  out  their  arms  t 
receive. 

On  the  banks  of  the  muddy  Seine  we  took  a  coac*^ 
^d  drove  to  the  Pont  neuf,  to  pay  our  devotions  at  th 
ftatue  of  Henri  quatre.  Thou  excellent  king  !  on  th 
countenance  is  alfo  legibly  imprefled  the  excellent  man.,, 
ftnd  the  one  is  no  lefs  valuable  than  the  other. 

Thence  we  proceeded  to  the  Palais,  as  it  is  called, 
where  fentence  is  pronounced  on  criminals.  We  found 
the  court  full  of  horfe  guards,  and  cur  driver  faid  in  a 
carelefs  and  jocofe  manner,  On  donnera  a  un  pauvre  dia" 
lie  a  dejeuner  et  a  diner. 

The  meaning  of  this  was,  that  the  court  of  juftice 
was  about  to  vcondemn  a  culprit,  who  was  immediately 
to  be  executed.  I  fnuddered  at  this  hardened  indiffer- 
ence to  fo  awful  a  fcene.  Our  valet  was  much  in  the 
fanie  ftory,  and  fpoke  with  equal  compofure  cf  an  execu- 
tion as  of  dancing  on  the  rope. 

We  afcended  the  great  ftair-cafe.  I  faw  Dothing  in 
the  Palais  but  what  Jefus  Chrift  drove  from  the  Jewifli 
temple,  buyers  and  fellers  in  almod  as  great  abundance 
as  in  the  PaJais-royai. 


MY    FLIGlir   TO  PARI5. 


181 


At  the  end  of  an  angular  gallei-y  we  at  length  found 
the  Hall  of  Judgment,  which  we  entered  juft  at  the 
-moment  when  the  poor  criminal's  fentence  was  readifig. 
ljut  the  place  was  fo  full  and  fo  hot,  and  the  whole 
fcene  gave  me  fuch  an  irapreffion  of  horror  and  anguiih, 
that  I  turned  back  immediately.  The  offender  I  did  not 
fee,  and  of  the  judge  I  faw  nothing  but  his  Spanilh  hat. 

Our  coachman  now  drove  us  through  the  P/^^r^  de 
Greve,  where  the  dreadful  inftrument  of  deftrudlion, 
a  wheel  with  a  ladder,  was  already  prepared,  and  thoii- 
fands  of  people  were  crowding  about  it.  O  hov/  re- 
joiced was  I  to  turn  my  back  upon  this  execrably  ceic 
brated  place  !  Were  I  offered  the  mofl  fumptuous  pal 
ace  in  the  world  in  the  Place  de  Greve,  as  a  prefent, 
upon  condition  of  Hving  in  it,  I  fhould  reje6l  it  with  dis- 
guH  and  horror. 

In  the  evening  we  went  to  the  Italian  theatre.  A  very 
fine  room,  commodious  feats,  vile  decorations,  good  fing- 
ers, moderate  acflors.  The  entertainments  were,  La 
Faujfe  Magie  and  Sargines,  The  firft  is  a  filly  infufferable 
thing,  with  very  inCpid  mufic  by  Gretry.  The  fecond  is 
^,  alfo  well  knov/n  in  Germany.  It  is  pleafmg,  and  the 
mufic  good,  but  the  father  of  Sargines  looked  like  a 
periwig-maker,  and  his  fair  coiifin  like  a  lady  from  the 
Palais-Royal. 

As  in  the  part  of  Sargines  fome  tragic  pafTages  oc- 
cur, we  had  now  a  fpecimen  pf  the  French  talents  ia 
;iat  y/dy.    It  was  fuch  a  dreadful  fawing  of  the  ai.r» 


182 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


flouii/hing  of  the  arms,  bellowing,  and  catering  of  the 
breath,  as  was  fcarcely  to  be  endured  for  a  moment. 

Heavens !  what  an  unaccountable  thing  is  tafte  !  I 
could  not  forbear  laughing  at  all  thefe  pafTages,  while 
the  company  in  general  wept,  and  clapped,  and  cried 
bravo  !  And  how  happens  this  ?  The  French  are  a  dis- 
cerning people,  and  by  no  means  wanting  in  tafte..,, 
why,  then,  do  they  and  we  differ  fo  widely  ?  The 
truth  feems,  that  w^e  love  nature,  and  they  art.  But 
yet  I  cannot  underftand  hovv  it  is  poflible  with  their 
irritable  f^'elings  not  to  love  nature,  or  to  admire  tha 
art  which  does  not  imitate  nature.  I,  for  my  own 
part,  have  never  confidered  art  as  admirable,  but  ir\ 
proportion  as  it  approaches  nature,  I  am  not  in  the? 
habit  of  writing  effays,  therefore  I  cannot  explain  this 
matter  :  I  only  know  that  it  is  fo.  I  will  next  attend 
the  Theatre  de  la  Nation,  to  fee  a  tragedy,  and  laugh 
till  I  be  weary. 

It  is  true,  that  before  a  French  public,  no  fentencc, 
no  fine  fentiment,  no  w^ell-defcribed  feeling  can  be  loftn 
All  fuch,  occafion  burfts  of  applaufe,  as  a  fpark  drop- 
ped among  gun-powder,  makes  an  inftant  and  tremen- 
dous explofion.  Yet  when  I  refieded  upon  v/hat  I  hid 
heard  in  the  morning,  I  could  not  feel  attra£led  towards 
a  people,  who,  with  perfeft  levity,  could  call  a  fentencc 
of  death  a  breakfaft,  and  an  execution  a  dinner.. ..who 
might  be  fliaken  with  a  word  of  fentiment,  while  at  the 
fame  time  a  deed  of  horror  was  regarded  with  indifFcr-^ 
ence. 


MY  FLIGPIT  TO  PARIS, 


183 


In  Sargines  are  many  paffages,  which,  at  the  prefent 
moment,  have  a  powerful  efFecl  upon  the  audience,  and 
might  be  fuppofed  to  call  forth  a  particular  manifeilaticn 
of  their  fer^timents.  For  inilance  :  //  faut  vaincre^  &u 
mourrir^  pou.  fon  rot.  From  the  applaufe  with  which 
this  fentiment  was  received,  it  might  well  be  prefumed 
that  every  foul  in  the  houfe  was  burning  with  defire  to 
teftify  his  loyalty,  and  die  for  that  king,  whom,  in  their 
common  language,  they  call  nothing  but  le  fawvrs 
homme. 

Among  the  a6lreires  was  a  charming  young  creature, 
by  name  Rofe  Renaud.  She  appeared  not  more  than 
fixteen  or  feventeen  years  old,  and  had  fuch  mildnefs, 
fuch  gentlenefs,  fuch  innocence  in  her  countenance,  that 
I  could  not  forbear  afking  my  neighbour  whether  it 
were  poflible  that  this  expreffion  was  not  deceitful  ? 
Whether  fhe  could  really  be  as  innocent  as  file  appear- 
ed ?  He  affuredmrie  fhe  was  fo,  and  I  inclined  to  believe 
him,  how  improbable  foever  it  might  appear,  efpecially 
as  my  belief  was  much  ftrengthened  by  her  modeft  car- 
riage and  demeanour  upon  the  ftage.  She  fcemed  to 
:cl  an  uncommon  degree  of  timidity,  and  it  ^^'^'^ 
u/ier  abundant  applaufe  and  encouragement  froiiLtbi?  au- 
dience, with  whom  file  anT^^^--^'^--^^^^"^^'^^'  ^^^t 

her   ^-remuloufnefs her apprehenfions  had  oc- 

cafioned.  This  diffidence,  I  think,  fpeaks  a  yet  uncor- 
rupted  heart,  and  I  put  up  my  prayers  to  heaven  that  it 
may  ever  remain  fo  !  If  it  be  polTible  on  a  French  ftage, 
may  the  allurements  of  fedu6lioa  never  acquire  any  influ- 
ence over  her,  but  may  fhe  contiinue  to  turn  with  difguft 


18i 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


from  the  poifoned  cup  of  voluptuoufnefs !  Her  voice 
is  fo  flexible,  fo  foft,  fo  free  from  all  ftraining,  tliat  her 
fmging  makes  an  irrefiilible  impreflion  upon  the  hearty 
but  fhe  is  little  or  nothing  of  an  aftrefs. 

My  companion  was  perfe£lly  enchanted  with  her. 
He  could  talk  of  nothing  elfe  when  we  returned  home, 
and,  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  fuddenly  {larted  vp  to 
write  down  a  quatraine  on  this  lovely  young  creature,  to 
which  his  brain  had  juft  given  birth. 

DECEMBER  23. 

The  new-bom  offspring  was  this  morning  fent  to  Ma- 
deraoifelle  Rofe.  She  received  it  with  a  fmile,  and  I 
fliook  my  head.  It  feemed  but  another  of  the  clouds  of 
incenie  by  which  her  virtue  is  daily  encompaffed,  and 
which  will  perhaps  ftifle  it  at  laft. 

I  had  fent  for  a  tayior  to  make  me  a  fuit  of  clothes. 
He  kept  his  hat  on  all  the  time  he  was  with  me,  fiins  ce^ 
remonie,  and  the  cockade  in  it  feemed  to  cry  aloud.  We 
are  all  equal » 

The  evening  hours  were  whiled  away  at  the  Varieth 
It  is  the  handfomell  theatre  I  have  feen. 
Eveiy  thing  about  it  difplays  tafte  and  elegance.  The 
perfoiuiv,— ,  however,  were  much  below  my  expeiSlation. 

The  play  was  The  7         .rw.  ^,     ,  . 

^  '  Pretty,  but  very  m- 

triguing  piece,  the  author  of  which  IS  a  memuci  v/x  ui^v, 
theatre  at  Eourdeaux.  It  i:,  probably  fpeaking,  a  cri- 
tique upon  Beaumarchais's  Figaro,  who  is  reproached, 
that  with  all  his  ingenuXy,  he  only  ft  rives  to  over-reach 
fuch  poor,  llupid  mortals  as  Count  Almaviva  and  Dos- 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  FARIS. 


185 


tor  Bartholo^.  In  this  piece,  on  the  contrary,  Figaro 
himfelf,  notwithftanding  all  his  cunning,  is  repeatedly- 
outwitted  by  the  other  Figaro,  as  a  difguifed  cherubim. 
The  after-piece  was  UEnrokmeut  Siippofei  a  hackneyed 
fubje6l,  void  of  wit,  humour,  or  fpirit. 

As  this  was  over  by  half  paft  eight,  and  it  was  yet 
too  early  Cb  return  home  for  the  night,  my  companion 
and  I  agreed  to  go  and  walk  for  a  while  in  the  fplen- 
j,  didly-iiluminated  arcade  of  the  Palais-Royal.  Every 
part  was  thronged  with  company.  The  criers  bawled, 
the  fliops  ghttered,  the  politicians  talked  at  full  gallopj 
the  young  men  ogled,  and  the  ladies  of  pleafure  plucked 
people  by  the  fleeve. 

I  now  firft  became  fully  acquainted  with  the  complete 
fhamelelTnefs  of  the  latter.  They  were  all  fo  uncom- 
monly dreffed,  that  the  lowed  among  them  might  have 
been  miftaken  for  a  lady  of  fafhion.  Two  really  pretty- 
looking  young  girls,  who  were  walking  together  arm  in 
arm,  followed  us  about  with  unwearied  alTidulty,  and 
would  fain  have  made  a  partis  quarree  with  us.  In  hopes 
of  getting  rid  of  fuch  a  troublefome  purfuit,  I  told  one 
of  them  that  her  companion  was  not  handforne  enough. 

**  But,"  faid  (he,  "  her  figure  is  very  fine." 

While  we  were  engaged  in  this  parley,  a  third  thrull: 
herfelf  in,  and  whifpered  in  my  ear,  "  Will  you  not 
come  and  fee  me?'* 

The  other  two  were  extremely  onended  at  this  intru- 
sion j  and  one  of  them,  drawing  up  her  head,  faid. 


186 


MY  FLiGAT  TO  PARIS. 


^*  Hov.',  Madam !  do  you  think  to  rob  us  of  our  gentle- 
man 

To  put  an  end  to  this  contention,  we  contrived  to  flip 
in  among  the  crowd,  and  leave  all  three  in  the  lurch. 

A  fourth,  who  liad  doubtlefs  heard  us  fpeak  German, 
nov/  prefTed  forwards,  and  purfued  us  with  the  word 
Deuifch,  Deutfch^  which  flie  had  probably  by  fome 
means  caught  up,  and  pronounced  with  a  very  droll 
accent. 

A  fifth,  at  laft,  V,  ho  feemcd  to  have  known  my  com- 
panion at  the  theatre,  a  poor,  unhappy  creature,  fcarcely 
fixteen,  but  very  lively  and  animated,  prefTed  us  fo  ear- 
neftly  to  fup  with  her,  which  we  underllood  perfedlly 
was  to  be  at  our  own  coft,  that  at  length  we  determined 
to  accept  the  invitation,  for  the  fake  of  fpeculating  upoa 
the  mode  of  li.e  purfued  in  thefe  abodes  of  wretchednefs 
and  depravity.  As  Vvc  were  two,  flie  would  fain  have 
gone  in  queft  of  a  com.panion  to  m.ake  up  the  part'tt 
quarreej  but  this  we  would  not  by  any  means  permit. 

She  conducted  us  up  a  ftair-caie  in  the  Palais- Roy  a!, 
to  her  habitation,  which  was  in  a  very  neat  apartment. 
And  here  a  new  conteft  arofe  upon  our  account.  It 
happened,  unluckily,  that  Mademcifdle  Adelaide,  who 
had  fo  kindly  given  my  companion  her  addrefs,  was  her 
next  neighbour;  and  having,  by  fome  means,  diicovered 
our  vifit,  ftie  infifted  that  it  was  defigned  for  her,  but 
our  young  creature  had  decoyed  us  away.  On  our  (Ire- 
nuoufly  maintaining  the  contrary,  (he  feemed  at  lead  de- 
termined to  make  one  at  the  fupper;  but  we  being  as 
*  German.  German, 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


187 


firm!/  refolred  againfl  it,      at  lad  feni  her  away,  mat- 
tering, and  extrcm.'Iy  difcoatented. 

The  fcm:n;  dz  ch-imhre  h:o)xy\\t  us  a  bill  of  fare  from 
the  rejfiuratetir,  aad  \rz  defii-ed  our  damfel  to  choofe  her 
entertainment.  She  was  moderate  enough  to  order  oai/ 
four  diihes,  an  apple  compote  and  the  ufail  wine. 

As  we  were  fitting  round  the  fire,  I  could  not  forbear 
receding  upon  the  fingularity  of  the  circumflances  ia 
which  I  was  placed.  I  was  in  the  apartment  of  a  lady 
of  pleafure,  with  no  other  view  but  to  fpecuhte  upon  the 
habits  and  manners  of  one  of  thefe  beings,  in  a  country 
where  I  was  a  ftranger;  nor  was  it  poflibie  for  other 
feelings  to  be  awakened  in  my  bafom.  He  who  has 
loved  as  I  have,  is  fafe,  though  aflaik-d  by  a  Lais  or  a 
Phryne.  If  I  bat  turned  one  thought  towards  my  Fre- 
derica,  how  difguiling  did  every  thing  appear  around 
me!  No,  beft  of  wives!  even  in  this  fituation  I  har- 
boured not  a  thought  unworthy  of  theel 

It  may  appear  extraordinary,  yet  it  is  neverthelefs  true, 
that  my  ideas  of  wedded  conflancy  are  now  fiill  more  en- 
•thufi?.ftic  than  fo -merly.  The  charms  of  a  lovely  wife 
have  made  me  infenfible  to  all  other  allurements.  Death 
has,  indeed,  torn  us  afunder,  but  I  am  not  the  lefs  her 
lover.. ..my  heart  remains  wholly  occupied  by  the  fame 
romantic  pallion  that  I  felt  in  the  firft  moments  of  our 
acquaintance,  and  to  look  on  any  other  objeft  but  with 
eye?  of  indifference,  would  be,  in  my  idea?,  the  height  of 
criminality.  In  a  word,  the  flame  that  fx  years  agq. 
made  me  often  fo  hnppy,  often  perhaps  fo  roolifh,  con- 
tmues  to  burn  with  undiminifhcd  ardour.  Oh  i  it  is  not 


]88 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PA?vIS, 


in  my  power  to  defcribe  what  were  my  feelings  on  thiff 
evening,  but  they  were  truly  honorable,  and  I  can  de- 
fpife  thofe  who  twift  their  mouths  into  a  fneer  when 
they  hear  of  my  vifiting  the  apartments  of  one  of  thefc 
poor  abandoned  females.  Perhaps  they  might  not 
themfelves  have  remained  there  with  the  fame  purity  of 
heart  that  I  did,  and,  confequently,  could  not  have  ac- 
knowledged the  viiit  with  a  like  confidence. 

The  poor  creature  told  us  her  ftory,  which,  whether 
true  or  falfe,  I  here  relate  in  her  ov/n  words.  An  old 
coxcomb,  fbe  faid,  had  llolea  her  away  from  her  parents 
at  Verfailles,  and  kept  her  confined  at  Paris,  but  with- 
out doing  her  any  injury.  Growing  weary  of  this  hfe, 
fhe  contrived  to  make  her  efcape,  and  taking  the  name  of 
Madame  de  Vincennes,  had  lived  ever  fince  by  her  own 
induftry,  if  it  can  be  called  living,  when,  by  her  own  con- 
feflion,  file  was  often  without  a  fous  in  her  pocket,  and 
always  in  debt  to  hxTfemme  de  chambre,  or  bonne  as  fhe 
fometimes  called  her.  The  common  routine  of  the  day 
was,  that  file  fcreakfafted  and  dined  in  bed,  then 
get  up  and  drefTed  herfelf,  talked  over  her  lunne  till  fhe 
procured  from  her  a  petit  ecu  to  go  to  fome  fpe^acky  af- 
ter which  fhe  repaired  to  her  ufual  promenade  in  the 
arcade  of  the  Palais- Royal.  I  really  was  fomewhat  in- 
terefled  by  this  unhappy  young  creature,  fmce  fhe  feem- 
ed  to  be  of  a  naturally  good  difpofition,  and  kind- 
hearted. 

The  fupper  came.  Madame  de  Vincennes  did  not 
eat  with  much  appetite... .fhe,  probably,  was  not  accus- 
tomed to  regular  mealv    We  foou  after  laid  a  little 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


prefent  upon  her  chimney-pjece,  and  retired.  I  nevcl" 
repented  having  made  this  vifit,  fmce  it  was  a  pcrfe6lly 
r.ovelfcene  to  me. ...but  I  could  not  eafily  be  induced 
to  wafte  time  again  in  fuch  a  way. 

DECEMBER  24. 

This  morning  we  received  a  vifit  frojn  the  Abbe  ue 

l\  ,  the  gentleman  who  had  ofFei-cd  to  procure  us 

tickets  of  adm.iffion  to  the  National  Affembly.  He 
had  an  uncommon  number  of  queitions  to  aflc  of  us.  In 
France  he  feemed  perfe<5l]y  at  home;  but,  with  the 
true  French  egotifm,  feemed  totally  ignorant  of  every 
thing  beyond  his  own  country.  France  was,  in  his 
ideas,  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  and  Paris  the  central 
point  of  all  that  was  defirable  in  that  kingdom.  Ruma 
feemed  to  him  as  perfe£l  a  terra  ineognlta  as  to  me  is 
Prefter  John's  country.  He  fuppofed  Livonia  to  be  a 
a  part  of  the  Pohih  dominions,  and  believed  that  travel- 
lers in  Ruffia  carried  a  compafs  in  the  winter,  as  a  guide 
through  the  fnov,'.  Probably  he  fuppofed  the  villages 
to  be  buried  in  fnow  above  the  chimnies,  and  that  it  was 
no  uncommon  thing  to  tie  a  horfe  to  the  top  of  a  church 
fteeple,  like  Baron  Munchaufen. 

As  I  was  turning  over  fcm.e  books  in  CulTac's  Hiop 
about  noon,  an  old  man  upwards  of  eighty  came  in, 
whofe  feet,  it  is  true,  feemed  no  longer  to  afford  him 
iiiuv,!.  f.-..:,.^,  y/Jiofe  countenance  befpoke  perfecl 

cheerfulnefs  and  good-iiumou..  P.pTac  expreffed  grc.;t 
pleafure  at  feeing  him  fo  cheerful.     "Oh!"  faid  he, 

I  have  experienced  many  troubles  in  the  courfe  of  my 
"  life,  b-<- 1  n-/er  felt  remorfe.*' 


190 


MY   FLIGHT   TO  PARir 


1  v/as  pleafed  with  this  anfwer ;  and,  on  enquiry,  after- 
Wards  learnt  that  he  was  Monfieur  de  la  Place,  author, 
cr  rather  tranflator,  of  a  voluminous  cclleftion  of  ro- 
mances and  other  writings. 

But,  indeed,  if  what  Cuffac  told  me  were  true,  he 
might  fairly  be  called  an  author.  Tliis  was,  that  he 
had  fo  rr.uch  improved  Tom  Jones  in  his  tranflation, 
that  it  had  been  re-tranflated  from  that  into  Englifh.  I 
could  not  forbear  fmiling. 

After  ftaying  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  Monfieur 
de  la  Place  was  quitting  the  fhop.  He  had  already 
got  the  door  in  his  hand,  when  fuddenly  turning  round 
as  if  fome  new  idea  occurred  to  him  in  the  inllant, 
•*  Give  me  pen  and  ink,"  faid  he,  "  to  write  down  an 

impromptu." 

The  pen  and  ink  was  brought,  and  he  produced  the 
following  quatraine,  which  I  tranfcribed  as  fcon  as  he 
A%'as  gone.  : 

Pour  que  de  deux  parties  les  noms  mieux  entendus, 
Dans  Tttat  divi'c  pcuvent  nioins  troublcr  I'ordrc, 

JLcs  er rages  font  ceiix  qui  furent  trop  mor  Jus, 

Et  les  tnrageans  ceux  qui  voudroitnt  encore  mordre. 

That  the  tvio  parties  titles  well  explain'd 

May  lei's  divificns  in  tlie  ftate  excite, 
Th'  iit.wVare  thofe  who  were  too  tightly  reln'd, 

Th'  incenfers  thofe  who'd  rein  them  flill  more  tight. 

Enrages  and  ^-r^fugsans  (incenfed  and  incenfers),  it  is 
well  known,  are  the  nick-names  given  to  the  two  reign- 
ing parties  that  at  prefeat  divide  France. 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


191 


Among  the  affiches  of  to-day  were  two  that  particu- 
farly  attrafted  my  notice.    One  was  as  follows  ; 

**  A  young  man,  thirty  years  of  age,  of  good  fami" 
ly,  but  conftrained  by  circumllances  to  retire  to  a 
**  pleafant  country-situation,  at  the  diftance  of  a  league 
**  from  an  agreeable  town,  and  about  twenty  leagues 
"  from  Paris,  upon  an  income  of  an  hundred  louis's, 
'*  wifhes  to  affociate  himfelf  with  a  female  of  good  edu- 
cation,  and  with  a  fortune  of  about  half  his  own,  who 
^*  would  be  willing  to  pafs  her  days  with  him,  not  in 
"  the  way  of  marriage,  only  as  a  companion.  An  an- 
**  fwer  is  requefted  in  the  Mercure  de  France.'''* 

Are  thefe  the  general  ideas  of  the  French  upon  thq 
fubje6l  of  marriage  ?  or  is  this  only  the  caprice  of  a  lin- 
gle  individual  ?  If  the  former,  I  mull  deteft  fuch  a  li- 
centious people.... if  the  latter,  I  pity  the  mifguided 
young  man.  But  fuppofing  he  be  really  in  head  and 
heart  a  man,  and  fhould  meet  with  a  gentle,  amiable  crea- 
ture, wiUing  to  live  with  him  upon  the  propofed  terms, 
I  prophecy,  that  in  a  year  ihe  will  become  his  wife.  He 
may  ftt  out  upon  this  plan,  to  try  her  tem.per,  and  whe- 
ther they  can  live  happily  together,  and  fhe  may  con- 
fent  to  his  wifties,  to  gain  herfelf  an  intereft  in  his  heart, 
till,  by  degrees,  they  will  grow  accuftomed  to  each  othez*, 
become  warmly  attached,  and  unable  to  live  afunder.  It 
is  abfurd  to  talk,  of  poiTeflion  weakening  love.  He  who 
ceafes  to  love  after  pofrefiion,  never  has  really  loved  at  alL 
Love  is  the  regular  food  at  the  table  of  Hymen....en- 
joyment  but  a  glafs  of  wine,  or  a  fweetmeat,  \yliich  may 
J?e  pleafant,  but  can  well  be  difpenfed  with. 


192 


MY  FL  IGHT  TO  ?ARIS 


Yet,  after  all,  fuch  an  advertifement  proves  inconteft- 
abiy  that  an  unbounded  licentioufnefs  reigns  among  the 
people,  fince  they  dare  thus  publicly  to  avow  fentiments 
militating  fo  ftrongly  againll  good  morals.  It  was  not 
a  little  curious,  that  in  the  very  fame  affiche  was  an  ar- 
ticle of  a  fimilar  kind,  only  with  this  difference,  that  the 
man,  who  gave  himfelf  out  as  tres  age^  wanted  a  well- 
educated  young  woman  as  a  companion  and  houfe- 
keeper....His  meaning  was  not,  however,  enveloped  in  fo 
thick  a  veil,  but  that  it  was  very  plainly  to  be  underftood. 

Another  article,  which  I  cannot  give  at  full  length, 
contained  a  moft  affefting  anecdote,  and  on  that  account 
alone  I  have  alluded  to  it.  Among  other  effefts  pro- 
duced by  the  fever  of  liberty,  it  has  occafioned  many 
pieces  to  be  brought  forward  upon  the  ftage,  which  be- 
fore were  negledled,  and  fcarcely  even  knov/n.  On  the 
Theatre  de  la  Nation,  formerly  the  Theatre  Francois,  in 
particular,  fcarcely  is  the  reprefentation  of  any  thing  en- 
dured, excepting  of  tragedies  that  have  fome  reference 
to  revolutions,  and  that  place  tyranny  and  fanaticifm  in 
an  odious  light.  Brutus,  IViUiam  Tell,  the  Death  of 
Cafar,  the  Deliverance  of  Rotne,  and  Jean  Calas,  are  re- 
peated night  after  night,  with  thunders  of  applaufc. 
The  tragical  hiftory  of  the  latter  has,  indeed,  within  r. 
fliort  time,  been  brought  before  the  public  in  every  pofTi- 
ble  foroi. 

But  while  the  ftage  refounds  with  the  name  of  Jean 
Calas,  the  people  are  not  aware  what  agonizing  v.  ounds 
are  thus  torn  open.  The  poor  widow  of  this  unfortu- 
nate man  has,  for  the  lafl;  fifteen  years,  lived,  together 


MY  FLlGirT  TO  PARIS. 


193 


with  her  two  daughters,  in  the  Rue  Poijfonmsre,  at  Paris. 
She  has  never  hiid  alide  her  mourning  fince  the  lofs  of 
her  huiband;  nor  has  ever  wound  up  the  clock  that 
Hopped  on  the  day  of  his  death.  Whenever  a  fentence 
is  proclaimed  in  the  ftreets,  the  maid  always  hadens  dov/n 
to  the  criers,  to  beg  of  them  not  to  proclaim  it  within 
hearing  of  that  houfe,  fmce  the  found  always  throws  her 
poor  miHrefs  into  a  fwoon. 

I  was  inexpreffibly  affected  by  this  anecdote.  Never 
would  I  be  prefent  at  the  reprefentation  of  Jean  Calas. 
It  is  impoflible  for  any  thing  to  increafe  the  impreflion 
made  upon  me  by  the  lingle,  fimple  circumflance,  that 
the  widow  has  never  wound  up  the  clock  that  ftopped 
on  the  day  of  her  hufband's  death. 

But  though  not  to  fee  the  performance  of  this  popular 
tragedy,  I  went  in  the  evening  to  the  Theatre  ds  laNaticn. 
I  found  it  a  very  fplendid  building.  Brutus  and  Le  Re- 
veil  d'  Epimenlde  a  Paris y  were  the  pieces  performed.  I 
entered  the  houfe  fomewhat  unwillingly,  but  left  it  very 
well  fatisfied.  Not  that  the  performers  difappointed  my 
expeftations  in  their  fawing  the  air,  flourifning  their 
arms,  and  catching  their  voices,  but  becaufe  I  had  an  ap- 
portunity  of  witneffing  the  unconftrained  burfts  of  feel- 
ing of  a  whole  nation,  and  becaufe  I  can  never  hope 
a^ain  to  hear  fuch  bold  things  repeated  on  any  ftage. 

The  laft  obfervation  principally  refers  to  the  after- 
piece, fince  many  pafTages  in  Brutus  that  were  extremely 
applauded,  were  only  ftriking  from  their  application. 
R 


194 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


La  mc  beg  my  reader's  patience  while  I  enumerate  fornt 

of  thofe  that  appeared  the  mod  popular: 

Dej[lru(5leurs  des  tyrans,  vous,  qui  n'avez  pour  rois, 
Que  les  dieux  de  Nunia,  vos  vertus,  et  nos  loix  ! 

Ye  patriots,  who  no  other  kings  obey, 

Save  Numa's  gods,  your  virtues,  and  our  lav7s! 

Kctis  avons  fait,  en  lui  rendant  hoipmage, 
Seiment  d'obeiflance,  et  ncn  point  d'efclavage. 

The  oath  we  took,  when  we  our  hcnrii.ge  paid  him. 
Was  of  obedience,  not  of  flavery. 

Sous  un  fceptre  de  fer,  ce  peuple  abattu, 
A  force  de  maiheurs,  a  repris  fa  vcrtu. 
Beneath  an  iron  yoke  his  people  crufli'd, 
Their  virtue,  through  misfortune,  have  refum'd= 

 Je  porte  en  mon  cceur 

La  liberte  gravee  et  les  rois  en  horreur. 

Within  my  heart  the  name  of  liberty 

I  bear  engrav'd,  and  kings  I  hold  in  horror. 

Sois  toujours  un  heros!  fois  plus,  fois  citoycn! 
Ee  a  hero  ftill !  be  more,  a  citizen  ! 

Arreter  un  Remain  fur  de  fimples  foupcons ! 
C'eft  agir  en  tyrans  ! 
Arreft  a  Roman  only  on  fufpicion  ! 
That  were  to  acl  as  tyrants  ! 

Dieux  !  donnez  nous  la  m.or!;  plutot  que  refclavage  \ 
Ye  gods  !  oh  rather  give  us  death  than  bondage  ! 

The  two  folio  vv'ing  pafTages  had  a  very  different  efFedi; 
upon  the  audience.. ..the  fecond  nearly  proved  the  ccca- 
fion  of  a  tumult. 

Quel  homme  eft  fans  erreur,  et  quelroi  fansfoible0€  ?• 
i  k'ce  a  vcus  de  pretenure  au  droit  de  le  punir  f 


MY    FLIGHT   TO  PARTS 


195 


Vou3,  nfs  tous  fes  fujets,  vous,  faits  pour  obeir  ? 
Uii  fils  ne  s'armie  point  centre  un  coupablc  pere, 
!1  dctoiirne  les  yeux,  le  plaint,  et  Ic  revere. 
I^cs  droits  dcs  fouverains  font  lis  moiiis  precicux  ? 
Nousfoinmes  leurs  enfi\ns,  leurs  juges  font  les  dieux. 

What  man  is  free  from  error  ?  or  what  king 
Exempt  from  weaknefs  ?....  Is  it  then  for  you 
T'affume  the  right  of  punifhing  his  fai:lt3  ? 
You,  born  his  fubjedls,  made  but  to  obey  him  ? 
No  fon  takes  arms  againic  a  guilty  father; 
He  mourns  his  failings,  yet  refpedls  the  parent. 
And  lhall  a  fov'reign's  rights  be  deem'd  isfs  facred 
f  iis  children  we,  his  judges  are  the  gods. 

Scarcely  was  the  a€toT  allowed  to  finifh  this  fpeech, 
or  the  following,  which  fet  the  powder  into  a  yet  more 
violent  explolion. 

Rome  a  change  de  fers,  et  fous  le  joug  dss  grands, 
Pour  un  roi  qu'elle  avoit,  a  trouve  cent  tyraiis. 
Rome  has  but  chang'd  its  bondage,  and  beneath 
The  yoke  of  nobles,  finds  that  for  one  king, 
She  vrouches  now  before  a  hundred  tyrants. 

At  thefe  words  feme  flaming  loyalifl  in  the  fecond 
tier  of  boxes,  mere  bold  than  difcreet,  clapped  vehe- 
mently. The  whole  pit  was  in  commotion  in  an  inlltini:, 
ev^ery  one  riling  up,  hifiing,  and  exclaiming,  ab  qu;  cela 
eji  bete  !  All  eyes  were  turned  immediately  to  the  fpot 
v/hence  the  clapping  was  heard,  with  menaces,  execra- 
tions, knocking,  and  ftamping.  The  players  P;opped 
to  wait  the  event,  aad,  by  degrees,  the  ftorm  blew  over  ,• 
for  how  could  a  fingle  offender  be  diflinguifhed  among 
fuch  a  crowd  ?  and  that  he  was  fmgle,  was  very  plain 
fro.T.  the  found.  Happy  was  it  for  him  that  none  of  his 
nciglibours  betrayed  him,  fmce,  if  difcovered,  he  had 
d jab tlefs  explat:d  his  foliy,  for  folly  it  was,  not  fpirit 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PAP.If. 


or  ccura^-e,  a  la  lantertie^  without  having  rendered  any 
lei  vice  to  his  fI->adow  of  a  monarch. 

After  fuch  a  proof  of  republican  jealoufy,  no  one  ven- 
tured to  take  no'cice  of  any  pafiage  that  was  not  ortho- 
doxly  democratic.  Yet  'tis  furely  hard  that  this  into- 
lerance (houid  prevent  the  company  in  the  boxe?,  who 
by  paying  their  money,  have  purchafed  the  privilege  of 
delivering  their  free  opinions,  from  teftifying  their  ap- 
probation or  difapprobation  of  ftriking  paffages,  when 
the  gentlemen  in  the  pit  afTume  a  right  of  clapping  or 
hilling  at  pleafurej  till  their  hands  and  throats  arc  fore. 

'Tis  truly  laughable  to  me,  that  the  French,  who 
have  fo  little  of  the  Roman  in  them,  (hould  uniformly 
apply  to  themfelves  what  is  faid  of  that  great  people. 
Every  foldier  of  the  national  guard  now  believes  him- 
felf  a  Titus,  and  fees  a  Brutus  in  each  deputy  to  the 
national  affembly.    At  the  words, 

Ee  a  hero  ftill!  he  more,  a  citizen  ! 

not  a  taylor's  heart  but  palpitates  in  his  boiom,  deHghtcd 
to  find  that  'tis  fo  eafy  to  be  a  hero. 

Enough  of  Brutus  !  only  a  word  more  upon  the 
performance  of  the  piece.  It  was  completely  French. 
Brutus  fcreamed  fo  beyond  all  bounds,  that  he  wound- 
ed my  ears  deplorably.  Titus  had  much  to  recommend 
him.. ..a  pleafir.g  yet  manly  voice,  which,  in  many  places 
affeaed  me  extremely.  He  was  very  fuccefsful  in  ex- 
preffions  of  the  g  eit  or  the  noble  ;  but  his  pafiion  was 
caiicature.  The  good  Tullia  looked  too  much  like  an 
own  fiHer  of  the  lafcivious  Tarquin,  and  Porfenna's  am- 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


197 


bafTador  hnd  that  abominable  peruke-maker  phyfiogno- 
mji  and  thole  peruke-maker  graces  and  airs  fo  common 
among  French  aftors,  and  which  accord  fo  ill  with  the 
plumed  hehnet. 

The  coftume  was  obferved  with  tafle  and  accuracy.... 
though  this  mud  be  underftood  only  with  regard  to  the 
leading  charafters.  Erutus's  toga  with  the  purple  flripe 
was  truly  Roman,  as  well  as  the  fafhicn  cf  his  hair  and 
beard.  His  fhoes  and  ftockings  only,  and  his  fnubbcd 
nofe,  reminded  me  that  he  was  Monfieur  fuch  an-one, 
Valerius  Publicola  united  to  his  Romidi  drefs  fuch  a  true 
ancient  Reman  countenance,  as  rcprefented  upon  gems, 
that  this  was  a  m.uch  mere  complete  deception.  As  to 
the  fenatcrj,  the  iidlors,  the  populace,  and  the  reft,  I 
have  nothing  to  fay  about  them,  excepting  to  remark 
upon  the  folly  of  fpending  a  great  deal  of  money  in  get- 
up  a  play,  and  then  rendering  the  whole  expence  nuga- 
tory, by  faving  in  a  few  trifles. 

V/hen  the  curtain  drew  up,  and  exhibited  the  Ro- 
man Senate  feated  in  full  a!TembIy,on  hearing  the  words, 
DtJIruSeurs  des  tyrans,  I  could  not  help  looking  round 
upon  thefe  magnanimous  heroes,  whom  I  found,  indeed, 
in  one  uniform  toga,  but  with  their  hair  finely  be-friz- 
zed  and  be  powdered,  v/hite  cotton  ftockings,  and  red 
fiippers.  There  was  an  end  of  all  deception  at  once  ; 
1  thought  of  the  famous  pidlure  of  Dido  upon  the  fune- 
ral pile,  with  her  courtiers  ftanding  round  in  Spanifti 
iiats» 

K2 


irS    .  MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 

But  to  proceed  to  the  after-piece,  Eplmenldes  awaking 
at  Par's.  A  fliort  fl^etcli  of  the  plan  of  this  littl; 
comedy  may,  perhaps,  not  be  unentertaining  to  the 
rtader. 

The  fcene  is  in  a  walk  in  the  Thuilleries.  Ariiljs 
relates  to  his  daughter  Jofephine,  that  Epimenides,  after 
having  liv;:d  for  a  time,  always  falls  afleep  for  a  hundred 
years,   and  then  wakes  again  to  a  new  life.    "  By 
this  means,"  he  adds,  "  he  has  been  a  fpe£lator  of  all 
^'  the  revelations  in  the  flates  of  Greece  and  Rome,  and 
**  has  often  witnefTed  alfo,  in  France,  how  the  monarch 
and  the  great  men  have,  with  unbridled  power  and  li- 
centicnfnefG,  cpprelTed  the  people,  and  trampled  them 
'*  under  foot.  He  faw  how  Louis  quatorxe  made  h.s  fuh- 
"  jecls  the  fla\'es  of  his  fame,   and  yet,  while  every 
thing  was  facrificed  to  that  phantom,  how  artfully  he 
contrived  to  make  himfcif  idolized  by  a  people  of  whofe 
mifery  he  war.  the  author.  This  Epimenides,"  he  con^ 
tinues,  will  foon  a^vake,  andbehold  lefs  oftentation,  but 
more  truth.. ..will  behold  vanity  and  foiiy  dreffed  in 
their  m.curnirjg  Vv'eeds,  and  the  people  at  length  con- 
"  fidered  as  of  fome  account.'* 

EpiiT^enides  Toon  appears,  and  exprefTes  his  fatisfac- 
tion  at  contemplating  cnce  miore  the  garden  planted  for 
the  great  Louis.    "  Pity,"  faid  he,  that  the  m.onarch 
ihould  prefer  the  gloomy  palace  of  Ver failles  to  this 
pleafant  and  fmiling  abode." 

Ariftus  anfwers,  that  a  fucceffor  of  the  great  Louis, 
nov^^  the  idol  of  France  has  come  to  live  there  am.ong 
his  pcople,„.that  his  prefence  has  diffufed  peace  and 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


199 


happincfs  among  them.... that  he  is  furrcunied  by  no 
foreign  guarvl  ;  bnt  that  all  things  in  tlie  nation  had  as- 
fumed  a  new  face. 

The  flioMts  of  the  audience  at  this  pafTafje  iilrnoft  over- 
powered the  voice  of  the  fpeaker,  and  the  cry  of  e-nccre  I 
encore  /  refoiinded  fo  from  ail  parts  of  the  houfe,  that  he 
was  obliged  to  repeat  it  again. 

Epimenides  then  aHcs,  "  whether  all  abufes  had  been 
reformed 

Ariftus  anfwers  v/ith  hefitation,  and  a  fiirug  of  the 
fiioulders,  "  Many." 

Ephncnuks.  "  The  courtier?,  then,  have  adopted  a 
"  different  fyftem  ?  Dofl  thou  not  deceive  me 

Here  v/as  a  grand  exclamation  of  non  I  nan  I  non  ! 

Ai'iftus.  "  A  wife  monarch  does  not  talie  counf<;I  of 

his  courtiers.'* 

L>-m^mdcS.      Of  the  parliament,  I  fappofe 
Ar'fjlas,  "  Not  fo,  neither." 
Eihn^nides.  "  Of  whom  then 

Ar'ijlds,  "  Every  honc>l  man  is  now  Iiis  counfellor  %. 

"  for  each  provir.ce  fends  its  deputies  to  the  court.  Yet 
all  things  cannot  be  completed  in  a  moment.  Many 
people  have  played  very  fliam  eful  parts  ;  but  that  is 

*^  pafl,  a  id  the  heavens  begin  to  look  brighter  around 
us.  V/ho,  therefore,  would  think  more  of  the  ftorm  \ 
At  prefent,  all  goes  on  well ;   the  free  people  love 

"  and  obey  th^.^ir  king,  and  iie  reveres  the  laws." 

A  long  and  loud  thunder  of  applaufe  fu^ceeded  this 


200 


MY    FLIGHT   TO  PARIS. 


In  the  feventh  fcene,  Epimenides  exprefTes  his  far- 
prize  that  the  news-writer,  Gorgi,  not  having  the  fear 
of  the  Eadille  before  his  eyes,  fiiould  venture  to  put 
forth  falfe  intelhgence.  How  great  is  his  altcnifiiment, 
v/hen  he  Ijsrns  that  this  fortrefs  is  levelled  with  the 
ground  !  "  How  !"  he  exclaims,  "  thofe  walls  rafed 
**  which  the  great  Conde  befieged  three  months  in 
"  vain 

Jcfephine  anfwers  him  very  fmartly,  "  We  order 
*'  thefe  things  better  noAv....two  or  three  hours  are  fufii- 
**  cient  for  the  purpofe.  A  number  of  brave  citizens 
**  took  upon  themftlves  the  -  tafli  of  freeing  the  nation 

from  that  abode  of  horrors,  that  receptacle  for  the 
«  vengeance  of  tyrants,  the  fufpicion  of  minifters,  and 

the  caprice  of  miJdrelTes." 

The  eighth  fcene  is  very  curious.  Madame  Brochure 
is  felling  various  papers  and  handbills,  no  longer  fongc, 
and  like  produckions,  but  ail  politics. ...nothing  but  poli- 
tics. Epimenides  inquires  after  the  cekbrated  poet  of 
his  time,  MoHere : 

Madcme  Brochure.  "  Oh,  his  day  is  entirely  gone  by." 

Ep'imenidcs.  *'  How !  are  fuch  admirable  writings  no 
**  longer  efteemed  r" 

Madame  Brochure.  "His  plays  are  fometimes  pcrrnit- 

ted  at  the  theatre.  Evit  thofe  are  alv/ays  confidered 
**  as  meagre  days." 

Bphnenides.  "  But  Corneille"  

Madame  Brocknre.  *'  Heaven  forbid 

Mpmcnides,     Racine"  y 


FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


201 


Madame  Brochure.  "  Is  no  longer  read.  Every  cen- 
tury  has  its  peculiar  folly.  For  ten  years  the  Encyclo- 
pedia  was  all  the  rage"  

Jofephlm.  "  To  which  fucceeded  chymiftiy,  and  at 
"  length  a  whole  train  of  osconomifts  appeared  in  tlie 
"  ilate,  but  no  oeconomy.   Now  politics  have  their  turn, 

every  one  alTifts  in  conducting  the  important  bufincfs 
"  of  government ;  and  even  the  coquette  has  the  Rights 
"  of  Man  lying  upon  her  toilette." 

In  the  tenth  fcene,  Monfieur  Rature,  ex-cenfor  to  the 
king,  appears,  whofe  place  has  been  aboliflied,  and  no 
penlion  allowed  him,  which  naturally  fetshim  very  much 
at  variance  with  the  new  order  of  things.  He  is  ad\"!fcd 
to  endeavour  to  get  into  fuch  or  fuch  a  fervice.  Thefs 
he  rejecfts,  and  at  length  confefTes,  that  though  he  m.ay 
perhaps  have  condemned  Voltaire  or  Jean  Jacques,  he 
never  in  his  life  could  write. 

"  Kow!  and  what  did  you  do  then:'*  it  was  aflced. 

"  Condemn,"  he  replies,  and  runs  off. 

Epimenides  obferves,  that  he  thinks  the  abolition  cf 
the  ceniorrtiip  a  very  great  benefit  to  the  nation.  "  It 
"  has  anfwered  no  other  pnrpofe,"  fays  he,  "  but  to  fur- 

round  the  kinpr  with  miferable  mutes.  It  has  been  the 
**  inilrument  of  tyrants  for  chaining  the  powers  of  the 
"  mind,  that  the  multitude  might  be  the  more  cafily  op- 
"  prelTcd." 

In  the  fourteenth  fcene,  a  nobleman  appears,  meeting 
a  farmer,  whom  he  afks  why  he  is  come  to  Paris.. ..v/he- 
ther  he  has  a  fuit  to  carry  on. 


202 


MY    FLIGHT    TO  PARIS. 


*'  Oh  yes!''  the  farmer  replies,  *'  the  united  peafantry 
of  France  have  been  carrying  on  a  gre?t  fuit,  which, 
"  heaven  be  praifed,  they  have  gained.  We  were  for- 
"  merly  ftupid  and  ignorant  as  beafts....the  ftrongeft  had 
"  midc  the  lav/s,  and  we  were  compelled  to  fubmit  to 
"  the  bit  and  bridle.. ..the  Lord  knows  why.  But  now 
**  things  are  otherwife.  We  refpeft  the  worthy  noble- 
**  man  who  is  affiduous  to  promote  our  happinefs,  and 
*'  labour  for  him  willingly,  but  we  will  not  be  trampled 
*'  uudtr  foot  by  a  fcoundrel.  W e  are  not  ignorant  of  the 
**  natural  rights  of  man.** 

The  nobleman  returns,  that  to  hear  a  fellow  talk  in 
that  way,  it  fhould  feem  as  if  all  men  were  equal.  For- 
merly, France  was  a  country  worth  living  in.  The  mar- 
quis bowed  to  the  duke,  the  courtier  to  the  marquis,  the 
country  nobleman  to  the  courtier,  and  fo  on  in  regular 
gradation.  I-Ie  concludes  with  the  refolution  of  fecking 
fome  corner  in  the  wide  v/orld,  where  the  tafte  for  flavery 
{till  flouriflies  in  full  vigour;  and,  if  no  fuch  fpot  could 
be  found,  as  a  lall  refource  he  muft  throw  himfelf  into  the 
next  river. 

In  the  fixteenth  fctne,  a  finging  Abbe  warbles  forth  a 
lamentable  ditty  upon  the  lofs  of  his  benefice, and  declares 
that,  contrary  to  his  inclination,  he  had  been  conftrained 
to  make  the  nation  the  heirs  of  his  v,realtb,  even  during 
his  life.  "  For  my  part,"  he  proceeds,  "  I  can  hve  upon 
"  any  thing,  but  what  will  become  of  thofe  who  were 

maintained  at  my  expence.  I  have  always  fupported 
*'  fuffering  beauty,  and -gave  a  thoufaiid  dollars  monthly 

to  my  poor  female  relations. 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARI?. 


203 


D^HarcourL  "  To  your  female  relations  ?  Why  to 
<*  them  only  ?  Why  might  not  thofe  of  the  other  fex 
/liare  your  bounty 

The  Ahhe.  "  I  have  no  relations  fave  two  fair  coufms, 
"  lovely,  amiable  orphans.    And  what  aggravates  the 

diftrefs  of  our  order  is,  that  while  our  money  is  ta- 

ken  away,  our  duties  remain  the  fame." 

Hare  our  t.  "  But,  my  good  fir,  every  rank  has  ex- 
**  perienced  a  change  ;  'tis  but  juil,  therefore,  that  the 

eccleliaftics"  

The  Ahhe,  "  With  all  my  heart,  if  the  proceis  had 
<f  only  been  reverfed." 

D'Harcourt,  "  As  bow  ?" 

'7 he  Ahhe.  "  If  they  had  releafed  us  from  oui  duties, 
^*  and  left  us  our  money." 

In  the  feventeenth  fcene,  a  dancing-mafter  laments 
the  decline  of  his  bufmefs.  France  is  degenerated," 
he  exclaims,  in  defpair  ;  "  the  people  no  longer  dance  ; 
"  they  w^rite  !  they  write  !  Every  body  is  nov/  a  foldier, 
"  and  even  the  young  courtiers  are  become  ftatefmen. 
"  How  many  men  are  loft  to  the  noble  art  of  dancing  ; 

all  my  friends  have  taken  refuge  among  the  Sarma- 
"  tians!" 

Nota-hene.  My  worthy  countrymen  in  Germany,  arc 
the  people  honoured  with  the  title  of  Sarmatians. 
"  Among  the  anftocrats,"  he  proceeds,  "  were  my  beft 
"  icholars...-.and  they,  alas  !  are  compelled  to  fly."  He 
concludes  with  announcing  an  entertainment,  according 
to  the  fafiiionof  the  times,  a  national  ballet  which  he  is 
going  to  prepare,  and  then  dances  off  the  ftage, 


204 


MY  FLIGHT  PARI: 


D'Harcourt  obferves  or  this,  that  times  will  be  bet- 
ter. He  confefles  that  through  the  preffure  of  circimi- 
ftances,  the  cheerfulnefs  and  amiable  urbanity  of  the 
French  have,  for  the  laft  five  or  fix  months,  been  fome- 
what  baniflied  from  the  nation  ;  but  declares  that  he 
has  no  doubt  of  their  being  foon  reftorcd  in  full  perfec- 
tion. 

I,  indeed,  could  net  help  fecretly  aflving  myfelf,  why 
he  confmed  it  to  within  five  or  fix  months,  and  only  al- 
lovv'cd  them  to  be  fomeivhat  baniflied. 

In  the  eighteenth  fcene,  a  furious  democrat  appears, 
who  thunders  vehemently  againfl  all  ariilocrats,  and  even 
fufpefis  Epimenides  of  planning  a  confpiracy.  He  is 
told  that  Epimenides  has  been  afleep  for  a  hundred 
years.  "  So  much  the  worfe,"  he  exclaims  impatient- 
ly. *^  He  mufl  then  have  lived  under  Louis  the  Great, 
whofe  court  was  not  popular  ;  and  who  knows  but  he 
may  be  even  a  fecret  emilTary."  

"  From  the  other  world,"  Jofephine  replies,  with  a 
farcailic  fmile. 

**  Hold  !"  cries  Ariflus,  thefe  eternal  fufpicious  fur- 
*'  niPii  evil-minded  perfons  with  pretences  to  feoff  at  the 
"  laws,  and  give  them  but  too  plaufible  rcafon  to  exult 

in  thofe  difgraceful  adions  at  which  France  will  long 
«  have  caufe  to  biufii.   Liberty  docs  not  give  us  a  right 

to  affront  our  neighbours,  nor  mufl  its  abufes  be  con- 

founded  with  the  thing  itfelf." 

In  this  icene  many  other  good  things  were  faid,  to 
v/hich  'tis  much  to  be  wifhed  that  the  French  may  pay 
attention. 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


205 


In  the  twentieth  fcene,  appear  an  officer  and  two  fol- 
diers  of  the  national  guard. 

Eplmentdes,  "  What  do  thefe  people  want?" 
Arijlus.  "  You  defired  them  to  be  fent  for." 
Eptmenides,  "  Heaven  forbid!  I  wanted  a  taylor.'* 
J'he  Taylor,  "  Behold  him,  as  a  fufileer." 
Epimenides.  "  And  an  attorney." 
The  Attorney.  "  Here,  at  your  fervice,  as  a  grenadier." 
Epimenides .  "  And  a  notary." 

The  Notary,  "  He  ftands  before  you,  as  a  captain." 
Har court.  "  We  are  all  foldiers.    The  king  has  as 
"  many  warriors  as  fubjedts." 

The  piece  here  clofes,  with  a  finale,  in  which  the  fol- 
lowing ftrophe  was  loudly  encored,  and  repeated  with 
long  and  eager  burfts  of  applaufe, 

J'aime  la  vertu  guerriere 

Da  nos  braves  defenfeurs; 
Mais  d'un  peuple  fanguinaire 

Je  detefte  les  fureurs. 
A  I'Europe  redoubtables, 

Soyons  Hbres  a  jamais! 
Mais  foyons  tx)ujours  aimables 

Et  gardens  I'efprit  Fran5ais. 

I  the  martial  virtue  love 

That  our  brave  defenders  fires, 
But  deteft  the  lawlefs  fury 

That  a  fanguine  race  infpires. 
Formidable  to  our  foes, 

Here  let  freedom  ever  reign. 
But  at  Jiome  ftill  amiable, 

French  urbanity  retain. 

Next  followed  a  ballet,  danced  by  national  guards,  and 
f  mart,  Hvely  girls.    The  latter  ornamented  the  hats  of 
S 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


the  former  with  national  cockades.  A  whole  company 
of  the  national  guards  appeared,  prefented  their  arms  be- 
fore the  public,  floiirifhed  a  white  flandard,  on  which 
was  infcribed  the  word  libertas,  and  the  curtain  drop- 
ped. 

I  think  this  piece  excellent  in  its  way,  and  likely  to 
be  of  particular  utihty  at  the  prefent  time.  The  benefi- 
cial parts  of  the  Revolution  are  brought  forwards  in  a 
brilliant  and  ftriking  point  of  view,  and  no  leverity  fpared 
in  reprobating  its  evils.  The  animated  applaufe  with 
which  even  thefe  reproofs  were  received,  is  a  ftrong  ar- 
gument how  much  might  be  effedled  by  the  ftage,  were 
it  never  fufFered  to  deviate  from  the  purpofe  for  which  it 
v/as  originally  intended,  as  a  fchool  of  morals. 

But  I  could  not  forbear  often  remarking  upon  the  great 
inconfiftency  difplayed  by  the  mafs  of  the  people  during 
this  evening.  In  the  drama  of  Brutus,  whenever  Tar- 
quin  was  mentioned,  they  feemed  to  recur  with  no  very 
favourable  fentiments  to  their  own  king,  yet  in  the  after- 
piece the  houfe  refounded  with  their  tranfports  at  thig 
fame  king's  no  longer  living  at  Verfailles,  but  in  the 
midft  of  them. 

At  our  return  hom.e,  it  being  Chriftmas  Eve,  we 
found  all  Paris  illuminated.  But  to  me,  who  had  feen 
an  illumination  at  Peterfburg,  this  appeared  very  poor 
and  petty.  There  the  ilreets  are  wider,  thehoufes  more 
niagnificent,  and  there  is  a  much  greater  profufion  of 
lights.  In  comparifon  with  the  Ruffian  capital,  Pari? 
cannot  be  confidcred  as  a  fine  town.  Here  are,  indeed,  a 
number  of  palaces,  but  they  are  fcattered  about,  not  ar- 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


207 


i;anged  together,  nor  is  there  a  ftreet  that  can  exhibit 
fuch  a  perfpeaive  as  that  of  Newiky,  at  Peterfbarg. 
Were  it  not  for  the  innumerable  concourfe  of  people, 
and  the  multitude  of  (hops,  Paris,  from  the  narrov/nef') 
of  its  ftreets,  the  blacknefs  of  its  houfes,  and  the  heaps 
of  oyder-fliells  fcattered  about,  would  make  a  very  me- 
lancholy appearance. 

The  chimneys  here  are  alfo  built  in  a  very  extraordi^ 
nary  manner.    They  proj  e6l  in  the  form  of  long  wdls 
on  the  outfides  of  the  houfes,  and  give  them  the  appear- 
ance of  prifons.    This  is  principally  the  cafe  on  the 
Quay  St.  Augufline,  and  its  environs. 

DECEMBER  25. 

This  morning  I  returned  Madame  de  Rome's  vifit.  I 
found  her  tranflating  CrelPs  Annals  of  Chymiftry,  in 
which  fhe  is  employed  by  fome  literary perfon.  We  feated 
ourfelves  before  the  fire,  on  the  chimney-piece  to  which 
lay  feveral  German  works.  Our  converfation  foon  fell, 
as  is  commonly  the  cafe  now  in  Paris,  upon  pohtics ; 
and,  fmce  Madame  de  Rome  is  a  confirmed  ariftocrat,  fhe, 
in  her  zeal,  called  the  National  AfTembly  their  tivelve 
hundred  mojejlies. 

The  Baron  von   O  •  and   myfelf  went  to  court 

about  four  o'clock,  to  fee  the  king  and  queen  go  to 

mafs.  We  ftood  in  the  hail,  where  a  hundred  Swifs 
were  keeping  guard.    They  were  tall,  fine  men,  carr}'- 

ing  long  pikes,  and  in  the  old  cofturae  of  Henry  the 

Fourth.    We  waited  a  full  hour,  and  I  cannot  fay  that 

the  fight  was  worth  waiting  for. 


m: 


203 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


At  lall  the  folding-doors  were  thrown  open.  The 
king  waddled  by  us  with  an  expreflion  on  his  counte- 
nance which  feemed  to  fay  rCeJl  pas  a  mon  gout.  The 
queen  failed  along,  accompanied  by  the  ladies  of  the 
court,  all  in  fuch  monftrous  hoops,  that  they  looked,  at 
a  httle  diftance,  like  flying  Montgolfiers.  They  came 
from  dinner.. ..they  were  going  to  mafs. ...thence  to 
cards.. ..thence  to  fupper....and  thence  to  bed.  Oh 
heavens!  what  an  infupportablc  kind  of  life! 

The  King  of  the  French  has  now  the  leaft  trouble- 
fome,  and  moft  lucrative  office  in  Europe.  He  has  a 
revenue  of  five-and-twenty  milHons  of  livres,  for  which 
he  has  only  to  fay  yes,  when  a  decree  is  brought  for  his 
fanftion;  and  even  for  this  he  fometimes  keeps  the  offi- 
cers waiting  a  long  time. 

As  all  other  fpeSlacles^  excepting  Les  Ombres  Chir.oifes, 
in  the  Palais-Royal,  are  fliut  up  on  Cliriftmas-day,  we 
went  thither,  but  I  could  not  endure  it  above  a  quarter 
of  an  hour.  I  expe6ted  to  have  found  this  petty  kind 
of  drama  here  in  great  perfedllon,  but  was  extremely  dif- 
appointed.  The  theatre  is  little  and  miferable....the 
fcenery  gaudy.. ..the  figures  lliff  and  awkward.. ..and  the 
wires  by  v%rhich  they  are  moved  often  vifible. 

Among  other  thiags,  a  fcene  was  reprefented,  in 
which  a  Ruffian  wife  complained  to  a  friend,  that  her 
liufband  feemed  no  longer  to  love  her,  fince  he  had  not 
beaten  her  for  three  days.  On  this  the  hufband  appear- 
ed, begged  pardon,  and  excufed  himfelf  by  faying,  that 
he  had  miHaid  his  ftick,  which  he  had  but  now  found 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


209 


again;  and  at  length,  as  a  proof  of  his  penitence,  gave 
her  a  hearty  drubbing. 

That  is  truly  German  /"  obferved  fomebody  beliind 
us.  Good  heavens  !  thought  I,  it  is  rather  truly  French 
ignorance  !  Strange  !  that  any  one  fhould  believe  the 
old  nonfenfical  idea  that  a  Ruffian  wife  had  rather  be 
beaten  than  kiffed  by  her  hufband. 

The  orcheftra  confifted  of  one  boy,  who  played  upon 
the  dulcimer.  The  room  was  ftuiFed  fo  full  of  company, 
that  it  was  fcarcely  pofiible  to  breathe.  We  began  to 
draw  our  breath  with  difficulty  even  at  the  door. 

The  concert  in  the  National  Circus  commenced  at 
feven.  This  circus  is  the  largeft  room  I  have  yet  feen. 
It  is  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  in  length,  and  being  for  the 
mofl  part  under  ground,  is  lighted  by  /l<y-lights.  It 
contains  a  very  fine  orcheftra,  a  number  of  benches  for 
the  audience,  in  form  of  an  amphitheatre,  a  fort  of  ro- 
tunda, where  are  a  variety  of  refrefhments,  iGuiWaes^ 
billiards,  in  fliort,  a  world  in  miniature. 

The  number  of  perfons  prefent  might  be  computed  at 
feveral  thoufands.  The  hall,  I  have  no  doubt,  v/ould 
contain  four  thoufand.  They  were  walking  about,  for 
the  moft  part,  dreffed  in  a  flovenly  manner  and  in  hats. 
When  the  mufic  began,  one  of  the  national  guards  came 
up,  and  begged  me  to  take  off  my  hat.  1  ftarted  and 
looked  round,  nor  was  aware  till  then  that  the  heads  had 
been  all  uncovered  in  a  moment.  Indeed,  il  cannot  but 
confider  it  as  fomewhat  ridiculous,  that  we  fhouidbe  obli« 


210 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARI3. 


ged  to  fit  without  our  hats  here.  In  the  theatre  there 
is  a  very  obvious  reafon  for  it ;  that  the  view  may  not  be 
intercepted  to  thofe  behind.  But  why  it  fhould  be  done 
at  all  at  the  concert,  if  not  at  the  firft  entrance,  which 
indeed  appeared  to  me  a  very  proper  and  natural  thing, 
I  cannot  comprehend.  I  could  net  forbear  afldng  the 
foldier,  Vt^hether  it  was  cuftomary  here  to  falute  the 
mil  fie  ?  to  which  he  did  not  know  what  to  anfvver.  The 
fymphony  commenced  in  B.  fiiarp.  It  was  the  firft  B. 
lharp  to  which  I  ever  in  my  life  had  taken  off  my  hat. 

Though  the  band  Vv^as  certainly  a  good  one,  yet  it 
ftruck  me,  and  the  idea  was  fcothing  to  my  pride  as  a 
German,  that  the  orcheftra,  on  the  whole,  was  certainly 
not  fo  well  filled  as  fome  in  my  country  ;  that  at  Mentz, 
for  inftance,  which  I  had  vifited  not  long  before.  I  be- 
gan, after  a  while,  to  grow  weary,  as  indeed  I  commonly 
foon  find  myfelf  in  a  large  company ;  and  though  I  might 
alfo  have  had  a  ball  for  my  fix-and-thirty  fous,  I  was 
m  uch  better  pleafed  with  the  folitude  of  my  own  room. 
I  therefore  retired,  leaving  my  companion  at  the  con- 
cert. 

'■Alas!"  I  faid  to  myfelf  aloud,  as  I  entered  the  coach, 
*•  I  will  go  home  to  my  Frederica,"  and  for  a  moment 
my  imagination  deluded  me  fo  ftrongly,  that  I  half  ex- 
peded  to  find  her  there.  I  have  hitherto  been  but 
ftWom.  alone,  only  for  an  hour  or  tv/o  in  the  morning,  as 
I  rife  early  ;  but  never  am  I  by  myfelf,  without  thinking 
that  (lie  is  vv^ith  me,  talking  with  her,  and  remanding  her 
of  a  thoufmd  happy  incidents  in  our  hves.  I  aflc  her, 
whether  file  does  not  hover  about  me  ?   Whether  fhe 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


|jhearsme  ?  I  look  to  the  right  and  to  the  left  in  the  air, 
I  in  hopes  that  my  fancy,  at  leaft,  may  fee  her  image 
I  among  the  clouds. 

It  is  faid,  that  there  are  no  fuch  things  as  fpirits,  but 
that  they  may  be  created  by  a  lively  imagination,  if  it 
wiflies  to  behold  them.  Ah!  then  have  not  I  a  Hvely 
imagination?  for  a  thoufand,  and  a  thoufand  times  have 
I  implored  my  fancy  to  deceive  me,  but  in  vain.  I  mull 
look  only  into  my  own  heart  if  I  would  behold  the 
image  of  my  wife. 

DECEMBER  26. 

I  learned  this  morning  that  Valhant,  the  interefting 
traveller  into  the  iHterior  of  Afri€a,  has  left  this  place 
i  fome  mOnths.    He  found  Paris  infupportable.  Thede- 
f  ferts  he  had  been  accuftomed  to  traverfe,  had,  for  him, 
[  far  greater  charms  than  the  Champs  Elifees,  and  he  pre- 
ferred the  African  hut  to  the  palace  of  the  Louvre.  But 
among  the  human  beings,  the  difference  appeared  ftill 
greater.    He  might  certainly  have  fought  in  vain  in  the 
Palais-Royal  for  a  Marina.    Dubrowflcy,  who  was  his 
frequent  companion,  defcribes  him  as  cf  a  gloomy  turn ; 
filent,  and  wrapped  in  himfelf,  but  unalmming,  and  often 
fitting  with  his  eyes  fixed,  as  if  forgetting  Europe  en- 
tirely.   He  even  feemed  to  have  httle  more  intereft  ia 
this  quarter  of  the  world. 

At  laft,  his  longing  to  return  among  his  Hottentots^ 
became  fo  powerful,  that  he  fuddenly  decamped  one 
rriorning.  only  leaving  a  note  iipon  the  table,  infonning 
his  v/ife  that  he  was  departed  for  Africa,  and  fhould 


2\2 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PAHIS. 


never  fee  Europe  more.  If  he  had  nothing  elfe  of  the 
French  charadler  about  him,  at  leaft  he  was  a  true  Pari- 
fian  hufband. 

This  evening  we  were  at  the  Theatre  de  Monfteur,  in 
which  there  is  little  remarkable,  either  as  to  its  exterior 
or  interior.  The  performances  were,  The  Trial  of  So- 
crates,  and  The  Univerfal  Hi/lory.  Oh  mighty  Socrates  I 
how  was  thy  memory  degraded !  Had  Mendelfohn  been 
among  the  audience,  he  muH  either  have  laughed,  or  fret- 
ted himfelf  to  death. 

The  mild  philofopher  mouthed,  fawed  the  air  with  his 
hands,  reviled  his  judges,  uttered  the  grolTeft  imperti- 
nences with  the  grolTeft  audacity,  was  inconceivably  vain, 
fcoffed  all  the  gods,  and  preached  pure  deifm.  In  fhort, 
he  appeared  as  little  like  the  genuine  Socrates,  as  the 
figure  of  an  old  man,  with  a  globe  in  his  hand,  refembles 
the  great  God  of  heaven.  The  judge  fat  in  an  awkward, 
old-fafliioned  eafy-chair,  that  looked  like  a  chair  of  par- 
ticular convenience.  The  Grecian  foldiers  were  in  long 
Turkifh  trowfers,  with  their  hair  well  powdered  and 
pomatumed  in  the  true  French  ftyle.  But  the  moft  curi- 
ous thing  of  all,  was  a  painted  chimney  in  Socrates'  pri- 
fon,  with  the  tongs  and  fire-fhovel,  and  fome  tobacco- 
pipes  lying  upon  the  chimney-piece. 

It  may  well  be  fuppofed  here  that  I  am  embelhfhing 
my  ftory,  but  I  can  affure  my  readers  that  this  is  by  no 
means  the  cafe.. ..that  I  have  ftated  nothing  but  what  is 
literally  fa6l.  That  is  truly  German^  faid  my  neighbour 
yellerday,  when  the  Ruilian  beat  his  v^rife.    That  is  truly 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS.  213 


Trenchy  could  I  have  faid  to-day,  when  I  faw  the  tobacco-  - 
pipes  upon  the  chimney-piece. 

Even  the  ring,  which  Socrates  gives  at  laft  to  the 
gaoler,  was  in  the  neweft  French  fafhion,  a  longifh,  blue 
{lone,  or  gbTs,  fet  round  with  brilliants.  Xantippe 
pleafed  me  more  than  any  thing  elfe  in  the  play.  Greater 
pains  feemed  to  have  been  bedowed  on  the  drawing  of 
her  characler  than  on  any  other.  She  was  not  repre- 
f;;nted  as  the  termagant  djfcribed  in  children's  little 
books,  but  as  a  hafcy,  yet  good-hearted  woman,  which 
was  really  the  fadl.  The  part  was,  befidss,  extremely 
well  performed ;  and  Nature,  by  making  the  a<?lrefs  un- 
commonly plain,  approaching,  indeed,  to  uglinefs,  had 
fuited  her  more  particularly  for  the  character. 

The  reft  of  the  performers  are  fcaicely  worth  mention- 
ing. They  all  flouriflied  their  arms  about,  fcreamed  like 
madmen,  and  were  repaid  vv'ith  unbounded  applaufe.  In- 
deed, of  all  the  theatres  I  have  yet  feen,  I  think  the  au- 
dience here  were  the  mofl  lavifh  of  their  tokens  of  appro- 
bation. They  were  bountiful  even  to  prodigality.  In- 
ceiTant  claps,  incelTant  exclamations  of  bravo !  refounded 
ir^vci  all  parts  of  the  houfe,  almoft  to  the  deafening  of 
thofe  few  among  the  audience  who  did  not  join  in  them  ; 
and  ftill  at  nothing.. ..and  again  at  nothing. 

The  fecond  piece  in  fome  meafure  compeufated  us  for 
the  difguft  occafioned  by  the  firft.  T^ie  Univerfal  H'f- 
tory  is  a  pretty  little  opera,  intended  to  fhew  that  every 
inhabitant  of  the  earth,  from  the  richepL  to  the  pooreft, 
from  the  king  to  the  beggar,  complains  of  the  miferies 
of  life,  and  complains  unjuftly.    This  univerfal  repining, 


214 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


and  th^  many  not  unufual  accidents  of  life  which  are 
generally  the  caufe  of  it,  as  a  loft  fuit,  infidelity  in  love 
or  friendfhip,  ingratitude  in  children,  and  the  like,  arc 
brought  forward  and  examined  with  much  wit  and  hu- 
mour. The  airs  have  fome  very  comic  touches,  and  are 
well  fet.  At  ths  conclufion,  a  hermit  appears  among  the 
affembly,  and  inftru^la  them  that  mankind  ought  always 
to  be  cheerful  and  happy,  fince  there  are  no  pohtive  ills 
but  what  he  himfelf  creates. 

The  author  muft,  however,  excufe  me,  if  I  cannot 
aflent  to  his  pofition.  There  is  certainly  much  real 
phyfical  evil  in  the  world.  I  will  grant,  that  perhaps 
ninety-nine  cafes  out  of  a  hundred,  that  reftlefs  unfatis- 
fied  creature  man  may  be  his  own  tormentor.  But  I 
wifh.  that  fome  one  from  among  the  multitude  had  ftep- 
ped  forwards  and  addreffed  the  hermit,  "  My  friend, 

death  has  torn  from  my  arms  a  wife  on  whom  I 
"  doated  for  I  fhould  much  have  Hked  to  hear  what 
anfwer  this  merry  advocate  for  the  non-exiftence  of  evil 
could  have  given.  Probably  he  had  fought  refuge  ia 
fome  com-mon-place  faying,  fome  pious  refledion. 

I  have  a  practical  ftandard  by  which  to  meafure  un- 
happinefs,  that  rarely  deceives  me.  Whenever  any 
thing  unpieafant  occurs  to  me,  I  afe  myfelf  whether  in 
a  year's  time  I  fnall  think  of  it  any  more  ?  Will  it  then 
have  any  influence  upon  my  fate  ?  If  I  muft  anfwer 
thefe  queftions  in  the  affirmative,  I  have  then  reafon  to 
confider  it  as  a  misfortune.. „if  not,  I  concern  myfelf  no 
more  about  it. 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


215 


By  this  ftandard  have  I  meafured  the  lofs  of  thee,  my 
beloved  Frederica,  and  I  pronounce  it  an  inconceivable 
misfortune  ;  for  were  I  to  live  to  the  age  of  a  hundred 
■years,  never  could  I  forget  our  cruel  feparation....my 
foul  would  ftill  be  torn  with  anguifh  whenever  I  rcfleiSled 
upon  thy  being  fo  prematurely  taken  from  me. 

DECEMBER  27. 

This  evening  was  fpent  amid  the  moft  horrible  fenfa- 
tions  of  ennui  at  the  Theatre  de  Beaujolots.  It  is  a  little^ 
miferable,  cold,  inhofpitable  houfe....the  performers 
were  ugly,  and  croaked  Hke  frogs  ;  and  the  piece  wa: 
one  of  the  moft  wretched  productions  of  the  commence 
ment  of  the  prefent  century.  It  was  called  U Anttdra 
mahirge,  a  comedy  in  three  a6ls,  of  which  not  lefs  than 
three  were  fuperfluous.  A  cold  and  feeble  cfTay  upon 
dramatic  poetry,  interwoven  with  a  love  intrigue,  con- 
furamately  flat  and  infipid. 

The  fecond  piece  was  Le  Bon  Pere,  a  petite  piece  in 
one  aft.  He  might  be  a  very  good  father  to  his  chil- 
dren, but  he  was  infupportably  ennuyant  to  us.  The 
mufic  was  little  better  than  might  be  heard  in  any  ale- 
houfe.  Not  one  among  the  fmgers  feemed  to  under- 
ftand  a  note,  and  woe  to  them,  if,  at  the  day  of  judg- 
ment, they  are  to  give  an  account  of  every  falfe  tone 
they  have  uttered  here  below. 

The  whole  concluded  with  Le  Deginfemsnt  Amoureux^ 
ftill  an  opera,  but  in  two  a£ls,  otherwife  twin  brother 
to  Le  Bon  Pcrc.  We  had  perfeverance  enough  to  ftay 
to  the  end.    I  cannot  claim  much  merit  in  this,  for  I 


216 


MY   FLIGHT   TO  PARTS. 


have  not  yet  by  any  means  obtained  the  obje£l  for  whichj, 
night  after  night,  I  vifit  fome  place  of  amufement,  that 
of  diflipating  thought.  Never  was  thought  fo  little 
diflipated.  The  whole  evening  I  could  almoft  fancy- 
that  my  wife  was  fitting  by  my  f  de,  nor  did  I  wifh,  for 
a  moment,  to  awaken  myfelf  from  this  delufion. 

Here,  as  in  all  other  places  of  the  like  kind  in  Paris, 
was  the  public  laughably  prodigal  of  applaufe.  Once 
they  were  abfohitely  fo  fliamelefs  as  to  encore  a  miferable, 
taftclefs  chorus  ;  and  this  encore  was  itfelf  pronounced 
in  fuch  an  infipid  and  taftclefs  manner,  that  it  involun- 
tarily reminded  me  of  their  fricafees.  Still  m.ore  naufe- 
ating  to  a  German  ear  is  the  manner  in  which  the  Greek 
and  Roman  names  are  pronounced  by  a  Frenchmian. 

DECEMBER  2$. 

The  Pctttes  Jifjiches  de  Paris,  of  which  abundance 
come  out  daily,  fcarcely  ever  fail  of  producing  fomething 
worthy  of  obfervation ;  and  whoever  would  give  himfelf 
the  trouble  of  fele£ling  from  them  regularly  fuch  things 
only  as  would  be  interefting  at  all  times,  and  in  all  coun- 
tries, might  publiih,  annually,  a  very  tolerably  fized 
volume.  I  have  already  colle6led  many  things,  and  mean 
to  continue  the  pra6lice. 

The  following  quatraine  is  from  one  of  the  cjjiches  of 
to-day.  The  thought  is  brilliantly  exprefled,  however 
untrue. 

O  bonheur!  O  chimere!  en  vain  Thomme  t'implore ; 

Kelas!  pour  etre  heureux,  fes  vceux  font  fupcr^us, 
En  efperart,  il  ne  Teft  pas  encore, 

En  jouiffant  il  ne  Tell  deja  plus. 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS.  2l'Y 

Oh  happinefs!  chimera!  thee  in  vain 

Does  man  with  wilhes  and  with  fighs  implore, 

In  hoping,  he  muft  ftill  unbleft  remain, 
And  in  enjoying  he  is  bleft  no  more, 

I  deny  both  aflertions.  How  ?  cannot  hope  make  us 
happy?  then  were  we  wretches,  indeed!  Hope  is  the 
childhood  and  youth  of  happinefs.  It  fupports  a  man  as 
leading-firings. ...fmgs  him  to  fleep....amufes  him  with 
gay  pictures.  And  though,  when  at  length  the  bridge 
to  reahty  be  pafTed,  things  may  not  appear  altogether 
fo  fmiling  as  in  profped,  yet  undoubtedly  that  moment, 
at  leaft,  when  we  confiaer  hope  as  actually  exchanged 
for  pofTeffion,  is  one  of  true  and  exquiiite  delight. 

Heaven  only  knows  w^hat  kinds  of  enjoyment  floated 
in  the  poor  poet's  ideas.  If  thofe  merely  that  depend 
upon  the  fenfes,  he  may  be  right:  but  the  man  who 
could  advert  to  fuch  alone,  had  doubtlefs  never  experi- 
enced the  only  true  happinefs  to  be  found  in  this  m.ortal 
life,  domeftic  peace  and  content.  He  does  not  know 
how  truly,  when  the  heart  can  boaft  of  thefe  bleflings, 
weeks  feem  but  as  hours;  nor  can  he  be  av/are,  that 
though  in  fuch  a  ftate  every  thing  goes  on  in  a  regular 
and  uniform  routine,  that  peaceful  uniformity  foon  be- 
comes the  deareft  thing  on  earth.  Thus  circumilanced, 
it  is  true,  a  man  knows  conftantly  at  one  hour  what  is  to 
be  done  in  the  next,  yet  does  he  not  therefore  apply  to 
it  the  lefs  willingly.. ..the  lefs  joyfully.  He  always  re- 
turns home  eagerly,  and  is  never  fo  happy  as  at  home. 
As  he  returns,  he  pleafes  hirafelf  with  the  idea  that  he 
T 


218 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


fhall  fee  his  beloved  v/ife  in  fuch  or  fuch  a  room,  bufied 
at  fuch  or  fuch  an  employment,  and  feels  not  jhe  lefs 
pleafurc  from  its  being  one  at  which  he  daily  finds  her. 
What  delicious  tranfport  thrills  through  his  foul  when 
greeted  by  her  fmilc !  How  eager  is  he  to  tell  all  the 
little  incinents  of  his  abfence....all  the  news  he  has  heard, 
?,nd  to  learn  how  the  domeftic  affairs  have  paffed  during 
the  time,  though  that  abfence  may  not,  perhaps,  have 
exceeded  an  hour,  With  what  ardour  does  he  engage 
in  his  daily  occupations,  when  affured  that  his  toils  will 
be  repaid  by  a  kifs  and  fmile  of  good-humour  1  Oh!  he 
who  has  tafted  thefe  fweets,  never  could  alTert  that  hap- 
pinefs  was  not  to  be  found  in  the  world  ! 

No!  the  poet  dcubtlefs  never  was  married!  or  if  he 
has  been,  his  wife  was  not  a  Frederica.  He  defcrves 
pity., ..he  has  mine. 

The  French,  however,  delight  extremely  to  play  with 
words.  The  poet  plays  with  his  efpercnt  ?iV^d  jouifant^ 
as  the  people  ?X  large  with  their  conjlitution  zr.dfederatiov* 
I  even  to-day  heard  Sons  ions  a  la  federaiton  cried. 
France  appears  to  me,  at  prefent,  like  a  grand  honhonntere^ 
and  all  the  fublime  and  beautiful  ideas  of  the  French, 
like  bor.lonsy  which  they  take  into  their  mouths,  fuck, 
and  mumble  them  about,  by  which  their  palate  is  grati- 
fied, but  which  produce  no  effedt  upon  the  interior. 

The  daily  affiches  generally  contain,  among  ether  arti- 
cles, one  head  entitled,  goods  lojl  and  found*  The  fuper- 
fcription  is  inaccurate.. ..it  fiiould  be  only  goods  IcJIy  {iv.cz 
I  never  could  learn  that  any  were  found  again.  No  grcal^ 
reccmmendation  of  Parifian  honcfty. 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


219 


To  indemnify  us  for  the  ennui  we  had  cxp-rler.ced  the 
preceding  evening,  from  the  Comedkns  de  Bi-aujohis,  we 
went  to-diy  to  the  jrr»-ind  opera,  and  I  muft  confefs  that 
I  have  feldom  received  fuch  varied  pleafure  from  any  en- 
tertainment, partly  arifing  from  the  fplendour  of  the 
fpedacle  itfelf,  partly  from  adventitious  circumftances. 

We  went  at  four  o'clock,  that  we  might  fecure  good 
p'aces,  and  accomphfhed  our  view.  We  had  providently 
furnilhed  ourfelves  with  books  to  amufe  the  time  of 
waiting.  The  opera  was  Gluck's  Alcefte,  a  moft  deli- 
cious treat,  both  for  the  ear  and  eye,  though  not,  indeed, 
a  balfamic  medicine  to  my  heart.  Scarcely  had  the  piece 
begun,  before  my  difeafed  fancy  employed  itfelf  in 
tracing  fimililudes  to  my  own  fituation.  In  Admetus  I 
faw  myfelf.... Admetus  was  in  a  ftate  of  ficknefs,  fo  was 
I. ...his  wife  had  facriiiced  her  life  for  his,  I  v/as  obliged 
to  travel  for  the  reftoration  of  my  health ;  my  wife  ac- 
com.panied  me,  and  loft  her  life  upon  the  journey.  Had 
fhe  not  facrlficed  hv;r  life  for  me?  Might  fhe  not  have 
been  now  alive  had  (he  been  left  behind?  I  fmiled  m.y- 
felf  at  this  enthufiafm,  while  tears  at  the  fame  time  ran 
down  my  cheeks;  and  whoever  can  fmile  otherwiie  at 
this  pafiage,  for  God's  fake  let  him  ihut  the  book. 

The  orcheftra,  the  muiic,  the  Hnging,  the  dreffes,  the 
decorations,  vie  with  each  other  in  tafte  and  fplendour. 
The  band  confided  of  about  a  Iiundred  and  eighty  per- 
lons.  The  coftume  was,  in  general,  extremely  well  pre- 
ferved,  both  in  the  dreffes  and  the  building ;  but  why 
muft  the  effcv^l  of  the  whole  be  always  in  fome  meafure 
dcilroyed  by  omiffions  in  trifles?   li  there  no  one  whofe 


IMY  FLIGHT  TO  PARI€. 


proper  bufinefs  it  is  to  order  the  drefles  of  the  fingers 
and  dancers?  Or  am  I  the  only  cne  whofe  fcehngs  are 
hurt  by  the  leaft  tiling  that  leiTens  the  deception  ?  Par- 
turlunt  monteSi  perhaps  many  will  fiy  upon  what  I  am 
going  to  obferve,  and  think  the  criticifm  indeed  a  raoufc. 
I  cannot  help  it. ...but  the  large,  broad,  new-fafhioned 
buckles  worn  by  the  dancers,  in  which  they  were  dancing 
before  Admetus,  in  a  Grecian  palace,  offended  me  terri- 
bly, and  awakened  my  fcnfes  from  the  delufion  in  a  very 
unpleafant  manner.  I  would  fain  have  forgotten  them, 
but  they  were  fo  confpicuous  that  it  was  impofiible ;  and 
the  more  I  wifhed  to  keep  my  eyes  away,  the  more  they 
involuntarily  llrayed  towards  them.  A  diftempered 
fretfulnefs  took  poffefiion  of  me,  which  purfued  me  even 
to  the  Temple  of  Apollo,  and  before  his  flaming  altar; 
for  wherever  I  looked  I  could  fee  nothing  but  monftrous 
new-fafhioned  buckles. 

The  ballet  that  followed  the  opera,  was  taken  from 
the  hiftoiy  of  Telemachus,  and  contained  nearly  the  firfl; 
book  of  Fenelon.  It  was  divided  into  three  afts.  Mon- 
fieur  Gardel,  the  compofer  of  Pfyche,  was  its  author; 
and,  indeed,  he  has  produced  two  things  that  may  almoft 
be  pronounced  perfecl  in  their  way.  But  Telemachus 
mufl  have  been  the  moft  difficult  taflc,  fince,  excepting 
Telemachus,  Mentor,  and  the  httle  Cupid,  the  dancers 
are  entirely  women. 

Telemachus,  like  Pfyche,  keeps  all  the  fenfes  in  a  kind 
of  fafcination.  How  charming  is  the  grouping  of  the 
lovely  nymphs!  How  exquifite  is  their  dancing!  What 
grace  is  ia  all  their  motions !  yet  I  muft  confider  their 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  rAKI*?. 


221 


wearing  under-jar-n^  its  of  fleHi-coIoured  filk  as  a  fuper- 
lative  refm^-ae  It  in  coquetry. 

But  not'iiii^-  entertained  me  more  m  this  evening  than 
the  aa:onilime:it  of  my  Eh/lonian  fervant,  whom  I  had 
tahea  wkh  me,  that  the  poor  fellow  naight  hsve  feme 
amufement;  for,  fiace  he  does  not  undenland  a  fylUble 
of  French,  he  fits  moping  by  himfeif  the^  live-long  day, 
and  mull  be  intolerably  tormented  with  the  vapours.  I 
prevloufly  gave  him  the  choice  of  the  money  or  the  di- 
verfion.  He  chofe  the  latter,  and  returned  home  fo  ex- 
tremely d  elighted,  that  he  did  not  appear  by  any  means 
to  repent  his  choice. 

I  made  him  fit  by  me,  the  better  to  obferve  his  feelings, 
which,  indeed,  changed  with  as  much  rapidity  as  the  de- 
corations upon  the  ilige.  He  looked  anxious  and  dif- 
treiTed  at  Tcl^machus's  iliipwreck,  but  his  countenance 
was  illumined  by  a  fmile  of  expreflive  fatisfadlion  at  his 
Tefcue.  When  the  nymphs  began  their  race,  and  the 
moft  beautiful  reached  the  fummit  of  the  rock,  and  foon 
after,  with  her  arrov/,  llict  a  milk- white  dove  upon  a 
pole,  he  appeared  quite  in  eciLafies,  and  began  talking 
eagerly  to  himfeif.  But  when  Venus  and  Cupid  de- 
fcendcd  in  a  cloud,  his  eyes  were  fixed,  and  he  remained 
motionlefs  with  aftonifliment.  Nor  did  he  appear  lefs 
forcibly  impreiTed  with  the  burning  of  the  fnip,  or  Tele- 
machus's  being  thrown  from  the  rock.  To  contemplate 
the  natural  v/orkings  of  an  uncultivated  mind  at  fuch 
reprefentations,  is  always  to  me  matter  of  great  interefl. 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


DECEMBER  29. 

The  public  prints  of  to-day  announce  a  tutor  wanted 
for  a  young  man  of  rank,  who  muft  be  of  a  religion  eclai- 
ree.  What  is  meant  by  this  enlightened  religion  is  not, 
however,  explained. 

We  went  towards  noon  to  the  inftitution  for  the  re- 
lief cf  the  blind,  to  be  prefent  at  their  public  exer- 
cifes.  Schulz  has  defcribed  this  inftitution  fo  well,  and 
fo  circumftantially,  that  little  remains  for  me  to  add. 
I  muft  confefs,  that  though  I  cannot  but  admire  the  in- 
genious manner  in  which  they  are  taught  to  read,  to 
write,  to  print,  &c.  yet,  on  the  whole,  it  appears  a  very 
ufelefs  kind  of  fport. 

To  read  with  the  fingers  is,  even  to  the  moft  pradi- 
fed,  fo  extremely  difficult  and  tedious,  that  no  blind 
man  can  ever  acquire  much  tafte  for  it.  And,  indeed, 
It  would  rather  be  matter  of  regret  that  he  ftiould,  fmce 
there  are  fo  few  books  for  him,  that  in  a  hundred  years 
his  library  could  fcarcely  amount  to  ten  volumes.  Of 
what  ufe,  then,  is  this  mode  of  reading  ?  merely  an  idle 
wafte  of  time. 

It  is  precifely  the  fame  with  printing.  One  of  thefe 
blind  people  would  fet  about  three  words  in  the  time 
that  a  pradifed  compofitof  would  fet  an  oclavo  page. 
Ufelefs  again. 

With  mufic  *ti5  no  better.  As  they  can  only  read 
the  notes  with  their  fingers,  it  muft  naturally  take  a  very 
long  time  to  learn  a  new  piece,  unlefs  affifted  by  the 
ear.  None  of  them,  however,  appeared  to  receive 
much  pleafure  from  muric....they  all  played  very  ill,  and 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PAR  IT. 


fccmed  fcarcely  able  to  perform  any  thing  but  the  ufual 
chorus,  which  they  are  obliged  to  fcrape  twice  in  the 
week,  to  gratify  the  curiofity  of  ftrangers. 

Of  geography,  the  fame  mud  ftill  be  faid.  I  may  be 
furprized  to  fee  a  Wind  man  point  out  a  town  or  country 
in  a  map,  but  I  mud  ftill  revert  to  the  original  queftion 
cui  bono  ?  Accounts  might  appear  at  the  firft  glance  to 
be  an  exception  from  this  general  condemnation,  yet 
from  all  I  faw,  I  am  of  opinion  that  a  man  might  reckon 
much  quicker  by  his  head  alone. 

But  what  appears  to  me  worfe  than  ufeiiefs,  truly 
laughable,  is,  that  thefe  blind  people  are  fet  t©  infti  uft 
children  who  can  fee.  In  reading,  this  might  pafs  tole- 
rably, fmce,  when  the  child  knows  the  letters,  his 
blind  inftructor  has  only  to  follow  him  with  his  fingers, 
to  know  whether  he  be  right  or  not.  By  what  means 
they  firft  teach  the  letters  I  did  not  comprehend.  When, 
however,  v/e  hear  a  fine  boy  of  not  more  than  four  years 
eld  examined  in  grammar  by  a  bHnd  man,  it  is  difficult 
to  fay  whether  our  pity  or  laughterbe  the  moft  excited. 
The  poor  infant  is  required  firil  to  run  over  the  names 
of  the  parts  of  fpeech,  and  then  to  explain  what  is 
meant  by  a  noun,  a  pronoun,  a  verb,  ^cc.  &ic.  all  which 
is  done  v/itii  luch  rapidity,  quefiion  and  anfwer  fuc- 
ceeding  like  blow  and  retort,  that  it  is  too  apparent 
the  whole  is  ofabbled  by  heart  on  both  fides.  What, 
then,  can  be  faid  of  fuch  things,  but  that  they  are  mere 
Charlaianru  ? 

Far,  however,  be  from  me  any  wifh  to  derogate  from 
the  n-:erits  cf  the  founder  of  this  inftitution,  who  ap- 


2Ci  MY    FLIGHT   TO  I'Ari^. 

pears  fo  happy  in  the  enjoyment  of  his  good  v/ork, 
EnoiiMi  is  ftill  left  to  procure  the  worthy  man  a  place  in 
the  kingdom  of  heaven.  The  fpinniag,  the  making 
belts,  the  knitting,  all  the  manual  employments,  are 
extremely  ufeful,  and  are  very  tolerably  executed  here. 
They  contribute  towards  the  maintenance  of  thcfe  un- 
fortunate people,  and  keep  them  from  idiencfs,  and  beg- 
ging about  the  ftreets. 

One  little  anecdote  I  mufl  relate.  ^Two  blind  men 
were  to  bring  us  a  fpecimen  of  their  printing,  and  the  in- 
fpe<5i:or  defired  us  to  give  them  a  fi^ort  fentepce.  I  gave 
*uive  la  liberie.  They  began  immediately  to  fetit,  when 
one  brought  indeed  bio  vivc  la  liberie j  but  the  ether  pro- 
duced, qv.and  elk  ejl  fans  abus.  Perh?p3  the  infpeclor 
bad,  unobferved  by  us,  v.'hifpered  him  to  do  this. 

At  the  concluiion,  one  of  the  oldelt  members  repeat** 
cd  us  a  poem,  whicli  he  faid  was  his  own  compcfition. 

Kence  we  went  to  the  place  where  the  Baftilie  fonner- 
ly  ttocd.  Scarcely  is  a  trace  of  it  to  be  difcerned.  No 
remains  of  the  hip;ti  and  gloomy  walls,  nothing  horrible, 
nothing  that  makes  the  foul  involuntarily  Hmdder.  'Tis 
now  a  fine  area,  where  only  a  heap  of  ftones  here  and 
th.-,re,  give  any  indication  of  its  ever  having  been  the 
fcite  of  a  building,  and  even  thefe  veftiges  we  found 
many  people  employed  in  removing. 

The  fenfations  experienced  in  {landing  upon  this  aw- 
ful fpot,  are  not  to  be  defcribed.  Can  one  forbear  re- 
fled\ing  with  honor,  that  every  ftone  one  palTes  over  has 
perhaps  ferved  as  a  pillovi^  to  fome  wretched  fellov^-cea- 
ture....that  every  fiiovcl-fuU  of  earth  v/hich  the  h;bour- 


MY   FLIGHT   TO  PARIS. 


225 


er  tlirows  upon  his  cart,  has  perhaps  been  moiHened  by, 
the  tear  of  heart-rending  mifery. 

Since  'tis  impollible  to  mention  the  Baflille  without 
recurring  to  the  unfor^iunate  De  la  Tiide,  whofe  fufFer- 
ings  have  rendered  him  fo  well  known  to  the  world,  I 
muft  here  notice  the  following  letter,  which  wasinferted 
fqme  days  ago  in  one  of  the  public  papers. 

*«T0  THE  PUBLISHERS. 
"  GENTLEMEN, 

"  I  have  in  general  received  fo  much  ill-treatment 
"  from  mankind,  that  I  feel  it  particularly  incumb  snt  on 
"  me  publicly  to  exprefs  my  gratitude  when  I  experi- 
"  ence  the  reverfe.  A  fhort  time  fmce"!  fent  a  copy  of 
"  my  memoirs  to  the  committee  for  regulating  the 
**  French  theatres.  Our  prcfent  Rofcius*s  have  fuch 
**  fine  opportunities  for  fupporting  freedom,  and  ren- 
**  dering  tyranny  odious,  that  I  thought  it  right  to  im- 
**  part  to  them  a  detail,  which  the  almofl  unexampled 
**  fufferings  of  forty  years,  three  months,  and  fourteen 
**  days,  gives  me  ample  right  to  call  the  archhss  of  dcs- 
«  pot'ifm:' 

He  then  proceeds  to  make  warm  acknowledgments  to 
the  king's  comedians  for  the  liberal  manner  in  which 
they  have  brought  him  and  his  benefa6lrefs  and  deliverer, 
Madame  le  Gros,  forward  to  public  obfervation.  My 
God  !  what  language  do  not  Parifians  in  thefe  timet 
venture  to  put  forth,  even  in  the  pubhc  prints. 

Monfieur  de  la  Tude  is  now  an  officer  in  the  engineers. 


MY    FLIGHT   TO  l>ARIS. 


XVliat  muft  be  his  feelings  whenever  he  pafies  over  tLat 
large,  open  fpace,  within  which  he  formerly  inhabited 
a  fmall  dungeon  cf  only  a  few  feet  Iquare  ?  What  more 
particularly  when  he  fecks,  and  perhaps  finds  the  very 
fpot  where  that  dungeon  lay  ?  Every  ftone  muft  be  to 
,  him  an  object  cf  painful  recollection  ;  for  v/ith  every 
ftone  he  might  probably  claim  a  miferable  acquaintance 
of  forty  yeaii?i 

In  the  evening  we  vifited  Les  Jlmhigus  Comiques,  and 
were  as  well  entertained  as  could  be  expe£led,  confidering 
that  we  had  been  the  day  before  at  the  opera.    We  faW 

Eprsuve  raifonalkf  a  piece  in  one  a£l,  and  Bekir  and 
Niza,  a  Ferfiari  drama,  in  two  a£ls.  In  both,  the  fa- 
ble was  limple,  but  well  handled,  find  the  pieces  v/ere 
tolerably  performed. 

A  pantomime,  called  The  Man  nv'ith  the  Iron  Majh, 
concluded  the  evening.  It  was  founded,  as  vi'ill  be 
fiippoied,  upon  the  v^^cU  known  ftcry  of  the  myftcrious 
prifoner,  confined  fo  m.any  years  by  Louis  the  fcurteer.th. 
If  the  poet  had  any  authority  for  the  ftory  he  has  made, 
the  my(lery  fo  long  concealcdj  is  now  unravelled.  The 
iron  mafii  in  the  pantomime,  is  m^de  the  king*s  brother, 
and  both  are  in  Lve  with  the  fame  woman,  who, 
probably,  is  fome  princefs.  The  king  is  the  rcjf6led 
lover. ...he  finds  his  brother  at  the  feet  of  his  beloved...:* 
they  fight.. ..the  guards  difarm  the  prince.. ..the  iron 
maflv  is  pat  on,  and  he  is  harried  away. 

Moil  of  the  anecdotes  that  have  been  circulated  re- 
lative to  this  extraordinary  prifoner,  are  here  brought 
fiw  wards.    The  governor  always  ready  with  a  piftol  to 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


Hioot  him  in  cafe  he  (houM  attempt  to  make  himfelf 
known  ;  the  filver  plate  on  which  he  wrote,  and  threw 
k  out  to  a  fifherman,  who  could  not  read,  with  many 
others. 

But  from  the  third  aft  to  the  end,  the  piece  is  only  an 
uninterrupted  fucceffion  of  improbabilities.  The  mafk 
fits  and  plays  upon  the  guitar,  and  is  anfwered  from 
below  by  a  flute.  He  then  defcends,  God  knows  by 
what  means,  and  returns  with  his  miftrefs,  who  has 
made  her  way  into  the  prifon,  God  knows  how,  and 
learnt  as  unaccountably,  that  behind  a  ftone  in  the  wall 
are  concealed  a  dagger  and  a  piftol.  With  the  latter 
the  gentleman  arms  himfelf,  while  the  lady  takes  the 
former.  The  governor  is  fliot,  and  the  guards  acknow- 
ledged the  prifoner  for  their  king.  He  flies,  God 
knows  whither,  and  ispurfued,  God  knows  by  whom  j 
finds  afliftance,  God  knows  where  ;  fights  bravely,  con- 
quers, amd  at  laft,  with  his  lady,  looks  quietly  ou  at  a, 
dance  of  peafants. 

The  mufic  was  very  pretty.  It  was,  indeed,  taken 
from  a  hundred  different  operas,  but  what  does  that  fig-, 
nify,  (ince  it  was  appropriate  to  the  purpofe. 

Yet,  altogether,  a  pantomime  is  not  a  thing  much  to 
my  tafte.  Too  much  is  left  t^  conjedlure.  The  ima- 
gination wanders  about  in  the  dark,  and  the  |)erformers 
muft  have  uncommon  talents  to  give  every  motion  the 
expreffion  intended*  fo  as  to  make  it  intelligible  to  th^ 
nudience. 


228 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


DECEMBER  30. 

This  evening  a  new  mufical  drama,  cdlhd  Euphrojyne  j 
cry  The  Tyrant  CorreHed,  attrafted  me  to  the  Italian  the- 
atre. It  was  announced  in  the  o^chesy  as  having  been 
performed  fix  and  twenty  nights  within  a  very  fhort  time. 
The  houfe  was,  notwithftanding,  very  full;  and  I  found 
it  not  unworthy  of  its  fame. 

Three  fifters  are  brought  to  a  court,  where  the  ca- 
prices of  a  defpot  hold  abfolute  fway ;  where  no  fubjedi 
dares  to  approach  his  prince ;  where  no  paflion  is  known 
but  infatiable  thirft  of  power;  no  pleafures  but  hunting, 
fighting,  and  tournaments;  and  where  every  gentler 
feeling  is  a  crime.  The  eldeft  of  the  fillers,  Euphrofyne, 
undertakes,  with  much  caution  and  circumfpedion,  to 
transform  this  favage  defpot  into  a  good  prince,  this  fe- 
rocious knight  into  a  gentle  and  fond  lover,  and  herpur- 
pofe  is  effedled. 

Such  is  the  outline  of  the  piece,  which  contains  fomc 
very  excellent  fcenes,  particularly  that  in  which  the  tyrant 
firft  begins  to  feel  his  new  pafiion,  which  fills  him  with 
alarm.  He  fends  for  the  pliyfician,  to  whom  he  relates 
the  particulars  of  his  malady,  and  is  informed  by  him  that 
it  is  the  fame  which  caufed  the  deftruftion  of  Troy,  and 
the  expulfion  of  her  kings  from  Rome....  love.  Another 
fcene  may  alfo  be  infcanced,  in  which  the  prince  armed 
for  battle,  with  helmet,  fliield,  lance,  and  fword,  repairs 
to  Euphrofyne's  apartment,  and  declares  his  love  to  her. 
She  dilTembles  terror  at  beholding  him  fo  arrayed,  and 
difarms  him  piece  by  piece.     He  then  allcs  whether  flic 

pleafed  with  him,  to  which  (he  replies,  no,  he  is  toy 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


229 


tall,  file  muft  look  up  to  him,  and  that  is  painful  to  her 
jieck.  He  takes  the  hint,  and  falls  at  her  feet;  by  de- 
grees file  reftores  him  his  arms,  and  at  length  appoints 
him  her  knight. 

The  mufic  is  alfo  good,  almofl  fine.  A  duet  in  par- 
ticular, which,  from  its  nature,  muft  be  afted  as  well  as 
lung,  was  received  with  unbounded  applaufe.  An  en- 
vious countefs  endeavours  to  make  the  newly-enamoured 
prince  jealous.. ..he  becomes  fo....fhe  is  tranfported.*... 
and  this  jealoufy,  and  malicious  joy,  give  occafion  to  a 
raging  duet,  in  which,  as  neither  could  rife  above  the 
other  in  finging,  both  began  to  fcream  without  accent 
or  note,  in  fuch  a  manner,  that  it  perfedlly  thrilled 
through  and  through  the  auditors.  This  feemed  to  be 
confidered  as  the  height  of  excellence;  and  the  thunder 
of  applaufe,  joined  to  the  clafh  of  the  mufic,  all  together 
made  fuch  an  uproar,  that  one  could  almoft  have  fup- 
pofed  the  l?.fl  day  coming  on,  and  the  world  about  to 
be  crufiied  to  atoms. 

Both  parties  funk  down  at  laft  into  feats  on  each  fide 
of  the  ftage,  with  their  breafts  palpitating  as  if  they 
would  burft.  One  of  my  neighbours,  indeed,  afferted 
that  this  was  only  giimace,  to  excite  fympathy  in  the 
audience,  but  I  beheve  they  really  were  both  exhaufted; 
I  am  fure  I  ,was  nearly  fo  myfelf  with  hearing  them. 

I  muft  here  obferve  upon  a  fault  in  the  French  per- 
formers, which  never  ftruck  me  till  to-night.    When  a 
noble  pride  is  to  be  affumed,  it  is  always  fhewn  by  turn- 
ing indignantly  away  from  the  perfon  addrelTed,  and 
U 


230 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PAKIS. 


making  the  oration  to  the  wall.  Such  was  the  cafe 
here  between  the  prince  and  the  countefs....fuch  between 
Titus  and  the  ambaffadors  of  Pcrfenna,  the  other  night 
at  the  Theatre  de  la  Nation.... ■3^.6.  fiich  h^twttn  Monjieur 
Socrate  and  the  High-Priell.  Strange!  that  the  moft 
polifhed  people  in  the  world  (hould  not  be  able  to  devife 
any  better  exprelTion  of  elevated  pride,  than  turning  their 
backs  on  each  other. 

We  had,  befides,  a  little  opera,  in  tv/o  afts,  which  was 
extremely  pleafmg.  Indeed,  the  performers,  both  vocal 
and  inflrumental,  in  this  theatre,  are  in  general  excellent. 
In  Germany,  v/here  we  are  not  fo  liberal  as  in  France,  the 
fecond  piece  would  have  been  omitted,  fince  Euphrofyne 
contained  three  acts,and  the  performance  lafted  tvro  hours 
and  a  half.  But  two  hours  and  a  half  would  by  no  mean? 
content  the  Panlian8....they  muft  have  four  hours  of 
amufement,  and  they  are  in  the  right.  Formerly  it  was 
the  fame  with  us,  but  the  higher  our  performers  rife  in 
their  prcfefiion,  the  lefs  attention  they  think  due  to  the 
public. 

The  little,  lovely,  innocent  P.ofe  Renaud  played  ?gai\i 
to-day.  Methiniis  I  fee  a  fmile  upon  the  countenance 
of  many  of  my  readers  at  the  word  innocent.  But  ch, 
let  me  cherifh  the  fwect  delufion,  if  delufion  it  be,  for  it 
gives  me  fuch  delight  to  think  her  innocent,  that  I  can- 
not relinquifli  the  idea.  To  whatever  may  be  objefted 
agaiiiil  it  by  experience  and  knowledge  of  the  world,  1 
oppofe  tliis  confoiing  truth,  that  no  general  rule  is  with- 
out exception,  and  Rofe  Renaud  is  an  exception.  At 
leall  fne       not  laid  afide  the  uniform  of  virtue,  modcdy 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


231 


of  demeanour;  and,  while  fhe  retains  that,  I  mull  hope 
that  fhe  truly  ferves  the  leader  whofe  uniform  fhe  wears. 

DECEMBER  3I. 

Once  more  let  me  recur  to  the  public  prints.  The 
following  extrads  are  taken  from  a  paper  of  this  day; 

EXTRACT  THE  FIRST. 
A  noble  Deed  of  the  Minifler  of  Ternan,  near  St.  John  d'Angcly. 

"  The  unfortunate  La  Tierce,  Lord  of  the  caftle  of 
**  Varaife,  flood  trembhng  amid  a  multitude  of  affalTms, 
**  who  fell  upon  him  with  knives,  fickles,  fcythes  and 
**  clubs,  when,  fuddenly,  an  eccleiiaftic,  the  minifler  of 
"  Ternan,  rufhed  in  between  him  and  his  murderers  ;  his 
**  prefencc  for  a  moment  reprefTed  their  fury.  He  ad* 
"  dreffed  them  in  the  language  of  the  God  he  ferved, 
the  language  of  peace  ;  reprefented  to  them  in  forci- 
"  ble  colours  the  heinous  nature  of  the  offence  they  were 
"  about  to  commit ;  urged  that  the  laws  alone  had  a 
**  right  to  punifh  in  the  name  of  heaven  ;  and  propofed 
'*  their  carrying  Monfieur  La  Tierce  to  prifon,  till  he 
**  could  be  properly  tried.  His  remonflrances  were, 
**  however,  vain. ...the  throng  that  prefTed  around  their 
"  viftim,  increafed  every  moment,  and  their  rage  grew 
**  every  moment  more  unbridled. 

At  length  the  eccleliaflic  perceived  the  door  of  a 
"  houfe  open,  againfl  which  he  and  La  Tierce  were  al- 
«*  ready  nearly  thrufl.    He  therefore  ventured  to  make 
a  bold  experiment,  and  pufhing  in  the  latter,  followed 


232 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS 


«*  himfelf,  and  fhut  the  door  haftily,  in  hopes  by  this 
**  means  to  efcape. 

**  But  in  vain.  The  mob  prefeiitly  broke  into  the 
"  houfe,  and  tearing  La  Tierce  fronri  the  arms  of  his 
"  protedor,  dragged  him  again  into  the  rnarket-pkce. 
"  The  eccleliaftic  Hill  regardlefs  of  all  danger  to  himfelf, 
"  prelTed  forcibly  among  the  aflaffins ;  and,  hnce  he 
**  could  no  longer  make  themliften  to  his  expoftulations, 
•*  threw  his  arm»  round  th^  trembling  La  Tierce,  hoping 
**  to  ferve  him  as  a  lliield.  But  at  that  very  moment  the 
**  unfortunate  viftim  received  the  ftroke  of  a  fcythe  over 
•*  his  head,  and  a  ball  in  his  breaft.  He  fell,  fprinkhng 
**  his  magnanimous  defender  with  his  blood." 

EXTRACT  THE  SECOND. 

"  On  the  twenty-ninth,  the  Royal  Agricultural  So- 
**  ciety  held  their  public  fitting.    Among  the  prizes 

they  awarded,  was  a  filver  medal  of  a  hundred  livres 
*^  to  Madame  Rattier,  the  wife  of  a  car-driver.  The 
**  occafion  for  which  it  was  given,  affeded  the  whole 
**  afiembly  with  a  pleafmg  emotion. 

**  A  child  was,  five  years  before,  confided  to  the  care  of 

this  admirable  woman,  of  whofe  parents  fhe  has  never 
*'  fmce  heard.  She  has  four  children  of  her  own,  and  an 
"  income  of  not  more  than  fifty  dollars,  which  herhufband 
"  earns  by  the  fweat  of  his  brow.  Often  has  flie  been  ad- 
"  vifed  to  fend  her  little  charge  to  the  FoundHngHofpital, 
"  but  never  would  forfake  her.. ..and  though  the  conftant 

rifing  of  all  the  necefTaries  of  hfe,  has  reduced  her  to 


MV  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


233 


"  great  fiiifts  and  want,  (he  has  uniformly  continued  to 
"  do  the  fame  for  this  poor  orphan  as  for  her  own  chil- 
"  dren." 

Inftances  of  fimilar  generofity  and  magnanimity  are, 
thanks  to  heaven  !  not  rare  among  any  people.  'Tis 
only  to  be  regretted  that  they  are  not  always  equally 
known  and  rewarded. 

A  third  extra6l  from  the  fame  paper,  does  not,  alas  ! 
reileft  quite  fo  much  honor  upon  the  nation. 

"  A  young  woman  of  pleafing  deportment,  who  can 
"  read  and  write,  and  who  underftands  wafhing,  wifhes 

to  engage  herfelf  as  companion  to  a  fingle  gentleman." 

In  our  country,  a  female  who  could,  with  fuch  fiiame- 
lefs  effrontery,  olTer  herfelf  as  companion,  or  in  plain 
terms,  as  miilrefs  to  a  fingle  gentleman,  would  be  a 
marked  object  of  public  contempt. 

As  I  was  breakfalling  this  morning  with  E:iron  G  , 

the  widow  Calas  fent  to  inform  him  of  the  death  of  her 
fon,  her  laft  fupport  in  life.  Unfortunate  woman  !  I 
felt  at  this  mom.ent,  that  there  are  fufferings  in  the 
world  far  greater  than  my  own.  'Tis  true,  that  in  the 
death  of  her  hulband,  (he  did  not  lofe  more  than  I  did 
in  the  lofs  of  my  Fredenca....but  the  horrible  manner  in 
which  his  days  Vv'ere  ended  Avas  a  dreadful  aggravation 
of  tlie  blow.  Scarcely  can  I  comprehend  how  it  was 
pofiible  for  her  to  furvive  fuch  a  ftroke,  at  leaft  to  re- 
tain her  fenfes....and  I  could  almoft  exclaim  with  Leffing, 
"  They  who  do  not,  under  certain  circumftances,  lofe 

U  2 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARI?; 


their  underflaadings,  can  have  no  underftanding  ta 
«  lofe!'* 

Nor  is  this  wholly  inapplicable  to  the  prefent  cafe, 

fince  Baron  G  informed  me,  that  fhe  had  been,  for 

fome  years,  in  a  very  debilitated  ftate,  with  little  feeling 
for  any  thing  that  pafles  around  her. 

My  acquaintance  with  this  Baron  G—  was  not 
commenced  entirely  without  prejudice  on  my  fide,  fince 
I  had  but  a  fliort  time  before  been  reading  the  Sequel  to 
Rouffeau's  Confefiions.  I  found  my  expe6lations  by  no 
means  deceived.  He  is  one  of  the  moft  amiable  old  meii 
I  ever  faw.  Mild  and  engaging  in  his  manners,  he 
charms  even  at  firft  fight.  Pofiefling  a  mind  richly  en- 
dowed with  all  kinds  of  knowledge,  he  never  intrudes 
it  upon  any  one,  but  only  employs  it  to  feafon  his  con- 
verfation  in  the  moft  natural  and  unaffuming  manner. 

Many  other  vifits  did  I  make  this  morning.  Among 
them  was  one  to  the  king*s  hbrary,  but  I  might  as  well 
have  ftayed  at  home ;  for  he  who  knows  that  it  contains 
three  hundred  thoufand  volumes  of  printed  books,  and 
a  hundred  thoufand  manufcripts,  knows  juft  as  much 
about  it  as  I  do. 

To  make  a  vifit  of  half  an  hour  to  a  large  library, 
appears  to  me  juft  as  idle  as  to  make  a  formal  vifit  of  the 
fame  length  to  a  celebrated  man.  The  moft  valuable 
book  carries  in  its  exterior  nothing  by  which  it  can  be 
diftinguifhed  from  the  moft  contemptible  produftion  at 
cur  Leipfick  fairs,  nor  does  the  moft  profound  fcholar 
carry  about  him  any  diftindive  external  charafteriftics 
Iby  which  to  difcriminate  him  from  the  dulleft  of  bis  bre- 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


215 


thrcn.  Three  hundred  thoufand  men  may  be  manoeuvred 
fo  as  to  afford  a  fpe6lacle  fomewhat  interefting  to  the 
fpedators,  but  three  hundred  thoufand  books  can  only 
{land  dully  in  rows. 

The  manufcripts  on  Papyrm,  and  on  waxen  tablets,  I 
however  contemplated  with  intereft,  and  allced  myfelf 
whether  yet  a  mouldering  grain  of  dull  remained  of  the 
hands  by  which  they  were  written.  The  large  pair  of 
globes,  which  are  fo  much  celebrated,  neverthelefs  ap- 
peared to  me  fmaller  than  the  Gottorp  globes  at  Peterf- 
burgh,  though  our  guide  ftrcnuoufly  afferted  to  the  con- 
trary. 

This  guide  was  an  Abbe,  whofe  name  I  have  forgot- 
ten. Inftead  of  (hewing  us  the  curiofities  of  the  library, 
or  even  anfwering  our  queftions,  he  was  fo  bitten  by  the 
dasmon  of  politics,  that  there  was  no  getting  him  away 
from  them  for  a  fmglt  moment.  He  proved  to  me  what 
I  was  before  fully  convinced  of,  that  the  peace  with 
Sweden  was  a  maftcr-ftroke  on  the  part  of  Ruf[ia....he 
developed  a  plan  for  a  treaty  of  alliance  between  France 
and  Ruffia,  towards  the  execution  of  which  it  was  little 
in  the  power  of  either  of  us  to  contribute.. ..he  touched 
/lightly  upon  the  relations  of  the  feveral  European  courts 
towards  each  other.. ..and,  in  fhort,  finally  fent  me  full 
drive  out  of  the  library  with  the  flaming  fword  of  his 
eloquence. 

The  library  of  the  Sorbonne,  which  we  next  vifited, 
IS  fmall,  but  pofTefTes  many  rare  and  valuable  manufcripts. 
Some  of  theie  had  recently  been  ftokn,  and  the  librarians, 
who  went  about  with  uS;  remarked,  that  the  theft  muH 


236 


MY   FLIGHT   TO  PARIS. 


have  been  committed  by  fome  of  the  members  of  the  Sof- 
bonne  themfelves,  fmce  they  alone  having  keys  of  the 
library,  nobody  elfe  could  come  in.  If  the  charge  be 
well  founded,  I  cannot  think  the  gentlemen  much  to 
blame,  fince  they  expert  every  day  a  decree  of  the 
National  Affembly,  by  which  this  colleftion,  now  their 
own  private  pofTefiion,  is  to  be  declared  national  property. 

Cardinal  Richelieu's  monument,  in  the  church  of  the 
Sorbonne,  is  a  chef-d^tEwvre  of  fculpture.  The  Cardinal 
refts  in  the  arms  of  Religion,  and  at  his  feet  is  Wifdom, 
in  the  form  of  a  woman,  veiled  and  weeping.  Thefe 
are  things  which  cannot  be  defcribed,  they  muft  be  feen. 
I  fliould,  however,  like  much  to  know,  fince  Greeks  and 
Romans,  French  and  Italians,  have  all  agreed  in  repre- 
fenting  Wiidom  under  the  form  cf  a  woman,  why  a 
learned  woman  is  always  to  be  made  a  fubjedl  for  mirth 
and  ridicule  ?  Is  it  only  in  marble  that  we  can  endure 
to  fee  a  female  endowed  v/ith  knowledge  ? 

As  I  faw  fome  people  at  work  upon  fcaffoldings  among 
the  arches  of  the  church,  I  allced  what  they  were  about. 

"  Taking  down  Cardinal  Richelieu's  arms,  which  are 

fcattered  every  Vrhere/'  was  the  anfwer. 

"  And  by  vrhofe  order?"  I  aflced. 
By  order  cf  the  National  AfTembly." 
And  why  this  order?" 

*'  Becauf?.  arms  are  forbidden  throughout  the  king- 
«  dom." 

Thic  is  curious.  But  Richeheu  has  created  himfelf 
a  n?.m2  of  vvl-.lch  no  National  AITcrr.bly  can  deprive  him^ 
though  L.iv;y  may  dcftroy  all  his  arraa. 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


23? 


The  facade  of  the  church  of  Saint  (ienevieve  tranf- 
ported  me.  Coilld  I  at  the  fame  time  have  clofed  my 
eyes  againft  all  the  little  miferable  huts  round  about, 
my  imagination  might  have  led  me  to  believe  myfelf 
tranfported  to  Athens;  for,  indeed,  there  is  nothing  in 
this  church,  and  its  tower  that  feems  to  kifs  the  clouds^ 
which  can  remind  one  of  the  Moft  Chriftian  King,  and 
the  eighteenth  century.  But  the  fine  large  area  in  which 
it  Hands,  is.. ..how  fhall  I  exprefs  myfelf  hedged  round 
with  huts ! 

A  new  drama  was  announced  for  reprefentation  to- 
day at  the  Italian  theatre,  the  title  of  which,  I'he  lajl 
Moments  of  jfean  Jacques  Roujfeau^  irrefillibly  attracted 
me  thither.  The  appearance  of  this  truly  eccentric  man 
upon  the  ftage  affefted  me  exceedingly.  All  the  fpeeches 
put  into  his  mouth  were  taken  from  his  writings.. ..all 
that  he  did  was  founded  upon  hiiloric  truth. 

The  fcene  v.'as  laid  in  RoufTeau's  chamber,  at  Erme- 
nonville.  It  was  decorated  with  a  harpfichord,  a  writing- 
table,  and  the  picture  of  Madame  de  Warens,  Therefa, 
RoulTeau's  wife,  and  his  nurfe  of  four-fcore  years  old, 
were  difcovered  waiting  his  return  to  breakfaft  from  his 
ufual  morning's  walk,  and  were,  meanwhile,  converfmg 
together  upon  the  melancholy  fate  of  this  perfecuted 
philofopher,  and  on  the  repofe  which  he  then  happily 
enjoyed. 

RoulTeau  himfelf  next  appeared.  The  player  who  re- 
prefented  him  muft,  doubtlefs,  have  copied  him  very 
faithfully,  lince  a  tumult  of  applaufe  inftantly  refounded 
through  the  whole  houfe.    Probably  moft  of  the  audi- 


^58 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARlS. 


chce  muft  have  known,  or,  at  leaft,  frequently  have 
the  original.    An  unanimous  bravo !  fainted  the  actor  } 
and  Roufleau's  widow,  who  was  in  the  houfe,  a£lually 
fainted  away. 

He  was  drefTed  in  a  complete  grey  fuit,  with  a  round 
hat.  His  knees  were  fomewhat  bowed,  his  Hep  flow  and 
circumfpeft,  and  his  wliole  appearance  mild  and  ferene. 
He  brought  under  his  arm  a  bundle  of  plants,  and  in  his 
hand  a  bird's  nell,  in  which  he  ihewed  his  wife  fix  young 
birds.  Therefa  reproved  him  for  the  barbarity  of  taking 
them  away  from  their  mother,  when  he  related,  with  a 
truly  affecling  fimplicity,  hov/  he  had  watched  this  nell 
every  morning  for  a  fortnight. ...how  he  had  feen  the 
mother  that  very  morning  feeding  her  young.... and  how 
fhe  was,  immediately  after,  ia  feeking  more  food,  de- 
voured by  a  fparrow-hawk :  then  did  he  take  the  neft, 
for  the  purpofe  of  intreating  his  wife  to  take  care  of  the 
young  ones. 

"  And  what  will  you  do  with  them  ?"  afl^ed  the  wife^ 
**  Give  them  liberty  as  foon  as  they  are  able  to  ufe  it," 

anfvvered  the  philanthropifc. 

This  was  followed  by  a  burft  of  applaufe,  and  as  the 

piece  proceeded,  the  clapping  continued  to  increafe,  till 

my  ears  were  half  ftunned.  I  did  not  join  in  the  clapping, 

but  I  wept. 

RoufTeau  then  fat  down  to  breakfaft  with  his  little 
family,  exadlly  as  he  defcribes  himfelf,  in  the  Confeflions, 
at  the  time  he  lived  near  the  Marechal  de  Luxembourg. 
I  cannot  exprefs  how  much  I  was  affefted  by  the  fcene. ' 
Tears  guflied  involuntarily  from  my  eyes.  I  refigned 


MY   FLIGHT   TO  PARTS 


239 


myfclf  wholly  to  the  interelling  delufion,  which  had  been 
much  more  impreflive,  if  it  had  not  been  fo  perpetually 
interrupted  by  ill-timed  claping. 

The  breakfaft:  ended,  RoufTeau  defires  his  wife  to  go 
and  vilit  a  poor  woman,  who  was  lying-in  of  her  eighth 
child,  and  was  in  great  neceflity.  Soon  after,  a  young 
journeyman  joiner  enters,  bringing  home  fome  work  for 
l^ouffeau.  The  philofopher  perceives  traces  of  deep 
forrow  on  his  countenance,  enquire?  into  the  caufe  of  it, 
and  learns  that  his  father  is  in  danger  of  being  carried  to 
prifon  that  very  day  for  a  debt  of  three  hundred  Hvres. 
The  confequence  of  this  muft  be,  that  the  fon  would  lofe 
a  maiden  with  whom  he  was  about  to  be  united,  fmce 
her  father  would  no  longer  confent  to  her  marrying  into 
a  family  he  confidered  as  difl^onoured.  Rouffeau  laments 
his  inability  to  relieve  this  diilrefs,  when  the  youth  begs 
him  to  intercede  in  their  behalf  with  the  jord  of  thq 
.eftate,  Monfieur  Girardin,  which  he  promifes. 

Juft  after  the  jciner*s  departure,  when  Roufieau  was 
beginning  to  revolve  in  his  mind  how  to  execute  what  he 
had  untertaken,  Monfieur  Duval  brings  him  a  letter,  with 
three  hundred  livres,  from  his  bookfelier,  Rey.  By  the 
way  it  muft  be  obferved  that  Monfieur  Duval  had  a  na- 
tional cockade  in  his  hat:  an  anachronifm  fo  grofs,  that 
it  had  an  aftonifiiing  efFe6l  in  lelTening  the  delufion. 

RoufTeau,  extremely  rejoiced  at  this  accident,  enquires 
of  the  nurfe  whether  they  are  at  prefent  in  want  of 
money,  and,  learning  that  they  are  not,  he  fends  imme- 
diately after  the  young  man,  to  whom  the  gives  the 
Vv'hole  fum.    The  iatter  fuppofes  this  to  be  a  prcfeut 


240  MY  FtlGHT  TO  PARIS. 


from  Monfieur  Girardin,  an  error  in  which  the  philofo- 
pher  leaves  him... .a  beautiful  ftroke,  indeed. 

The  youth,  in  his  gratitude  for  the  fuppofed  inter- 
ceflion,  endeavours  to  throw  himfelf  at  Rouffeau's  feet, 
but  is  repreffed.    "  That  were  degrading  both  to  your- 
felf  and  me,"  fays  the  philofopher. 
**  May  I  ?  may  I V*  ftammers  the  youth,  as  he  fpreads 
0ut  his  arms  towards  his  philanthropic  patron, 

**  Why  not?"  fays  ^ouiTeay,  and  clafps  him  eagerly 
to  his  heart.    Few  eyes  remained  dry  at  this  fcene. 

The  youth  now  flies  to  his  father  to  free  him,  and 
Roufleau  in  the  mean  time  receives  a  vifit  from  Monfieur 
Girardin,  to  whom  he  obferves,  that  he  feels  his  laft 
hour  approaching,  that  his  eyes  are  become  dim,  and 
that  he  has  been  endeavouring  in  vain  to  read.  He 
thanks  the  worthy  man  for  all  his  kindnefs,  particularly 
for  having  granted  him  an  afylum  where  he  may  die  in 
peace,  and  recommends  his  wife  to  his  proteftion.  He 
then  prefents  him,  as  a  memorial  of  their  friendfhip, 
with  his  own  manufcript  of  the  Social  ContraB,  which 
Girardin  receives  with  tranfport,  preffes  to  his  lips,  and 
....now  comes  a  fpecimen  of  true  French  gafconade..., 
alTerts,  that  the  work  M'as  dictated  by  God  himfelf. 
It  is  in  future,  therefore,  to  be  confidered,  I  fuppofe,  asii 
^  fifth  Gofpel. 

The  young  joiner  then  appears  again,  with  his  father, 
and  his  maiden,  who  all  overpower  Girardin  with  their 
expreffions  CI  gratitude,  which  he  of  courfe  does  not 
underftand,  nor  knows  therefore  how  to  reply  to  them. 
Rouffeau  enjoys  this  delightful  fcene  in  fiience,  antj 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


211 


when  Therefa  explains  the  riddle,  they  all  furround  his 
chair,  and  load  him  with  carefTes. 

He  ftill  continues  to  feel,  with  greater  and  greater 
certainty,  the  approach  of  his  laft  moments.  He  defires 
the  window  to  be  opened,  that  he  may  fee  the  fun  once 
more,  and,  for  the  laft  time,  admire  the  beauties  of  cre- 
ation. "  That  is  God!'*  he  exclaims, God,  who  now 
**  calls  me  to  himfelf !"  With  thefe  words  he  fmks  back 
in  his  chair,  the  company  prefent  form  an  interefting 
groupe  around  him,  and  the  curtain  falls. 

This  is  indeed  a  tragedy.  The  firft  French  tragedy 
ever  written  in  profe,  and  in  which  the  adlors  played 
naturally  and  rationally,  without  fawing  the  air.  The 
extraordinary''  applaufe  they  obtained  might  ferve  as  a 
lefTon  to  them  in  future,  that  this,  as  being  the  way  of 
nature,  is  the  only  way  which  can  pleafe  all  times  and 
nations.  When  the  curtain  dropped,  a  thoufand  hand- 
kerchiefs were  in  motion,  a  thoufand  tongues  vociferated 
their  fatisfaftion,  and  two  thoufand  pair  of  hands  clap- 
ped. "  The  Author  I  the  Author  /"  refoundcd  from  all 
parts  of  the  houfe,  pit  as  well  as  boxes. 

This  continued  for  a  long  time,  before  any  one 
thought  proper  to  appear  upon  the  ftage.  But  as  the 
cry  redoubled,  the  curtain  at  length  drew  up,  and  a  per- 
former came  forwards,  who  addreffed  the  audience.... 
"  Gentlemen,  the  author  is  Monfieur  Bouilly,  the  fame 
to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  Peter  the  Greats 

The  curtain  dropped  again,  but  ftill  the  cry  of  The 
Author'  the  Author  I  continued.    After  waiting  ten 
X 


M  Y  FLIC  :i  T  T  3  P  A  R  I S. 


rilinutes  longer,  fmce  the  ar.dience  wculd  not  be  qntef* 
«■  plj.yer  again  appeared,  and  faid,  that  the  author  haj 
Kci>:i  fought  for,  but  was  not  in  the  houfe. 

'*//<:  here  I  he  '.s  h.  rc  they  iin-.n'mcufly  cxcJr'n:  d» 
How  thfy  knew  this  ff  certainly  I  cannet  tell  j  pnhrp? 
he  might  have  been  difcovcred  behind  the  fctnes  diirii  g 
the  reprePntation.'  But  fmce  there  was  no  pcflibihty  Jt 
appeali-:g  the  audience,  he  did  at  length  appear  v/itb" 
extreme  n:odt{ly  aud  tinJdiiy,  and  mrde  a  kw  bc.w,- 
which  was  received  with  a  perfect  tumult  cf  applaufcj 
when  he  was  r'^tinncr. 

o 

'Jean  yacques  !  jec.n  jfacqves  !  war  lcw  vcc  fcrattd 
with  equal  vehemence,  till  the  aftor  who  had  played 
R..ufre:va  come  forwards.  The  author  tcck  himi  ly  the 
I  nnd,  both  bcwcd  rcfpc6lfully  to  the  publ.c,  then  tm« 
b^actd  each  other,  ard  vvtnt  pif  arm  in  anr.  The  noife 
that  lucceedtd  m.ufi:  have  been  heard  to  cbtaiu  any  idts 
cf  it. 

The  other  two  pieces  perfr  ••med  this  evening,  Lvcrt 
€t  Li.%ctt€y  an  opera  in  ont  rdl,  and  FLl'tx^  an  cpcia  in 
three  acts,  were  abiolutely  infi  ppcrtatie.  Ii.iip  d  n:U-« 
fic,  ii-lip!d  dialogue,  and  ii.f:p:d  plots.  I  corld  ret 
fcibear  I"^]ghii;g  at  an  old  nurie  in  Fchiz,  irtcidtd  for 
a  Gem  an,  but  the  poor  foul  had  tntrrely  fcrgottti'  her 
nx-tl  er  tongue,  and  tortured  her  wcrdt-  in  fuch  a  deplora- 
ble manner,  that  it  m.ight  as  well  have  been  the  langurge 
cfthe  bL'ttentotG. 

The  Jf  urncl  de  Parts  cf  thi?  mcrnirg  contains  fo 
bigh  ?r:  eixumiiim  on  the  fifli-Wu«:eD,  that  X  ca/-i/Ot 
fill  giving     n  plact  iitrce 


MY    FL^'.HT  TO 


*•  /,:'!•  Dimi^s  d;  la  HtlJjj*  Taj^li  is  th^  nam?  g'ven  tQ 
th  ^fe  ladiis,  **  w.tc  ad  netted  it  th.i  Dp-  iiar  of  thi^  fit- 
**tii^,  ail  pr.jf.Mtc.d  tiieir  ;r)od  vv. '^1:5  for  a  happy 

iiTii  to  the  Iibjti:-3  of  tho  Maci.3n,il  I>.jprcrent:itivj3, 
*^  The  afTembly  r<;ccivtd  their  wi  lies  with  fatisfafliona 
^*  as  the  voice  of  th^^  people.  It  13  kaown,  that  thi 
**  Dam:s  la  lialh  havi  often  Pu^pped  forward  in  this 
**  revolulion,   and  alwiy;}  fall  of  p  itriotifm.  Their 

charailer,  at  all  times  prone  to  independence.... their 
**  freedo.n  of  fpeech,  vvliich  was  even  pardoned  at  a 
•*  time  when  little  was  pardjned,  muft  naturally  give 
**  them  a  diilinguiHied  zeal  for  liberty.    How  igno- 

rant,  then,  mud  they  be  of  the  motives  which  have 
"  influenced  late  events,  who  can  doubt  the  purity  of 
"  theirs !  The  time  has  been  when  fuch  obfervations 
•*  would,  perhaps,  have  called  forth  the  fmile  of  con- 

tempt  from  people  of  Torif  and  they  might  have  ferv- 
**  ed  as  fubje(Sls  for  their  witticifms.    But  what  now  is 

this  1  on  ?  Whatl  ecame  of  it  from  tjie  moment  wae.i 
**  the  proud  and  manly  voice  of  freedom  made  itfclf  be 

heard  V 

This  'Ton,  in  truth,  is  vanilhed.  But  whether  the 
fifh-women  have  fubftituted  any  thing  better  in  its  place, 
every  one  can  judge  who  has  fince  that  time  fpent  only, 
three  days  at  Paris. 

JANUARY  I,  I79I. 

Receive  my  friendly  falutations,  thou  iirll  day  of  a 
new  year  I  God  be  thanked !  I  have  now  turned  my 
back  upon  the  moft  unfortunate  year  of  my  life.  Cer» 


244  MY   FLIGHT   TO  PARIS. 

tain  am  I  that  the  coming  year  cannot  bring  me  any  ca- 
lamity fo  great  as  the  lall  produced.. ..it  cannot  rob  me" 
of  a  fecond  Frederica  !  The  future  can  deprive  me  of 
httle,  but  it  may  reftore  me  m.uch.  I  have  no  more 
hopes  in  this  world  :  what  I  have  loft  is  irreparable  ! 
Yet  welcome,  thou  new  year,  for  thou  bringeft  mc 
one  ftep  nearer  to  the  joys  of  a  better  life. 

On  this  day  twelve  months,  as  I  was  fitting  in  my 
fludy,  my  Httle  William  came  in,  and  repeated  courage- 
cully,  and  without  hefitation,  a  pretty  little  new-year's 
v.'iili,  taught  him  by  his  mother,  who  herfelf  ftood  at  the 
door  to  liflcn  whether  or  not  lie  repeated  his  lefTon  cor- 
redly. 

I  caught  her  in  my  arms....lhe  wept....**  Why  weeps 
**  my  love?"  I  ailted, 

**  AlasP'  fhe  faid,  **a  year  ago  I  wifhed  the  reftora- 
**  tion  of  your  health,  but  in  vain... .and  I  fear  that  my 
**  wifhes  now  fliould  prove  equally  vain." 

*'  Make  yourfelf  eafy,  deareft  Frederica,**  I  replied, 
♦*  I  am,  notwithftanding,  happy.  Many  a  joyful  day 
*'  have  I  experienced  in  this  year,  and  for  the  moft  joy- 
'*  ful  I  am  indebted  to  thee." 

Yes,  I  was  indeed  happy  in  fpite  of  my  debilitated 
frame.  My  health  is  now  amended,  but  my  happinefs 
is  gone  forever.  The  only  enjoyment  that  remains  to 
me,  is  in  recurring  to  the  paft....my  only  hopes  are  in 
futurity... .that  futurity  that  will  re-unite  me  to  her.... 
to  her  who  alone,  among  a  thoufand  women,  could 
make  me  completely  happy.  Ah  !  why  was  fhe  given 
me  only  to  lefe  her  again  ?  and  yet  I  would  not;  for  all 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


245 


the  treafures  tliis  world  could  beilovv,  ftrik:  out  of  my 
life  the  fix  years  of  blifs  I  experienced  with  her!  would 
n  3t  for  a  moment  lofe  the  recollection  of  the  moH  trifling 
joy  we  have  fhared  together!  The  waters  of  Lethe  ap- 
pear to  me  an  ill-invented  fable.  Do  we  not  nnd  every 
where,  and  even  hereafter  it  will  doubtlefs  be  the  fame, 
that  the  recurrence  to  paft  joys  forms  one  of  the  primary 
fources  of  thofe  vi'-e  deem  prefent  ?  Yes,  m^y  loft,  adored 
Frederica!  doubtlefs  a  part  of  thy  happinefs  confids  in 
thinking  of  me!  Perh.tpi  thou  art  fo  occupied  on  this 
very  day,  if  yet  thy  time  be  meafured  by  days  and  hours 
....perhaps  at  this  very  moment^  when  the  tears  called 
forth  by  thefe  recolle6lions  Itream  down  my  cheeks,  fali- 
ir^g  on  the  little  dog,  once  thy  favourite.  Ah!  this 
poor  animal  now  hes  conftantly  on  my  lap ;  an  indulg- 
ence which,  in  former  times,  he,  as  thou  knowell,  was 
never  allowed. 

I  was  this  morning  in  the  ancient  chur:h  of  Notrz 
Dame,  It  is  an  old,  tafteleis,  Gothic  building,  yet 
awakens  in  the  heait  a  kind  of  folemn  and  reverential 
av/e.  It  contains  feme  very  excellent  pictures.  The 
Catholic  churches  are,  in  general,  much  handfomer 
buildings,  and  much  more  nchly  ornamented,  than  thofe 
of  the  Protcilant  religion.  One  is  irrcullibly  excited  to 
devotion;  and  mofl  irr-fiHibly  when  a  folemn  filencc 
reigns  throughout,  interrupted  only  at  intervals  by  the 
foft  vv'hifpers  of  a  fmgle  voice  pouring  forth  its  pious 
Drifons.    This  filence  is  never  obferved  in  a  Proteftant 


246 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  TARIS. 


place  of  worfliip.  It  feems  the  idea  there,  that  piety 
muft  be  kept  conftantly  in  motion,  left  the  thread  (hould 
fnap.  Thus  hymn,  pfalm,  prayer,  and  litany,  courfc 
each  other  fo  clofely,  that  they  are  in  danger  of  pro- 
ducing a  furfeit ;  and,  when  all  is  over,  the  church-doors 
arc  clofed,  and  God  is  not  permitted  to  give  audience  to 
thofe  who  would  like  to  kneel  and  pour  out  their  fouls 
to  him  in  private.  That  I  may  not  be  reproached  with 
partiality,  I  mufl  add,  that  I  am  myfelf  a  Lutheran. 

In  the  great  church  of  Notre  Dame  we  found  feveral 
people  on  their  knees  who  did  not  feem  at  all  to  heed  us. 
By  one  of  the  pillars  fjit  a  nun,  with  fix  little  girls,  all 
dreffed  alike.  Our  guide  told  us  that  they  were  found- 
lings, and  that  the  Foundling  Hofpital  was  clofe  at  hand. 

We  inimediatdy  went  thither,  and  I  thank  Gcd  for 
the  delightful  feelings  with  which  I  there  commenced 
the  new  year.  We  were  conduced  into  a  large  room, 
where  ftood  a  hundred  little  beds,  ranged  in  four  rows, 
in  each  of  v/hich  lay  a  child  of  above  a  year  old,  all  as 
clean  and  neat  as  pcfpible.  The  air  in  the  rocni  was  per- 
fc6tly  fweet  and  v»holefome,  v/ithout  the  lead  bud  fmell 
whatever. 

An  old  nim  came  towards  us,  and  received  us  with  the 
moft  frank  ferci;  tr.  "  You  come,"  faid  fne,  to  vifit 
*'  my  numerous  family.. ..I  am  a  happy  mother..., I  Lave 
"juft  received  a  new-year's  prefcnt  of  ten  additional 
*'  children." 

Thefe  file  flicwed  us.  Tlie  attendants  were  then 
vvafhing  and  feeding  them.  A  number  of  girh,  gror»  u 
up,  all  foundlings,  fat  rour.d  t!ie  chimney,  and,  by  their 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 

care  of  tliefe  uewly-arrived  gaefts,  drove  to  repay  the 
kindnefs  they  had  themfilves  received.  It  might  have 
been  cxpe6led  that  a  r.uiidred  children  would  make  a 
great  noife  and  crying,  but  they  were  all  perfedly  quiet, 
and  feeraed  perfeflly  conteated;  an  additional  proof 
that  they  are  well  taken  care  of,  and  wanted  for  nothing. 

Five  thoufand,  eight  hundred,  and  forty-tw^o  children 
were  received  into  this  hofpital  in  the  courfe  of  the  lail 
year.  Seventeen  hundred  nurfes  are  retained  in  its  fervice 
in  the  country;  but  the  good  old  nun  complained  that 
it  was  now  diiHcult  to  get  nurfes,  as  flie  could  not  pay 
them,  fince  fhe  had  not  received  any  money  for  a  long 
time,  and  the  National  AiTembly  had  not  yet  taken  the 
inftitution  into  their  hands.    She  (hewed  us  how  the 
children  were  fed  with  rice  and  milk,  a  method  fhe  did 
rot  approv^.    "  Some  years  ago,"  fne  faid,  "  the  nurfes 
**  were  all  difcharged,  to  introduce  this  new  mode  of 
**  feeding;  but  a  little  experience  fufficiently  proved  that 
"  it  would  not  do,  and  the  purpofe  was  oi  neccfUty  re- 
«  linquifhed." 

This  nun  is  certainly  one  of  the  happieft  of  people, 
TiOt  only  in  Paris,  but  in  the  world  at  large.  Never  did 
I  fee  in  any  countenance  fo  much  fwect  compofure  and 
ferenity.  She  carries  a  heaven  in  her  h':^art,  the  eff  ;6t  of 
her  mildnefs  and  patier-^e  here  on  earth.  Tov/ards  the 
grown-up  childrccj  her  deportment  was  equally  like  one 
of  the  moil  affectionate  of  mothers.  They  all  appeared 
to  place  unreferved  confidence  in  her,  and  fpoke  with- 
out any  fhynefs  or  diftruil.  She  fhewed  us  a  pretty  Mttle 
gill,  and  b^jged  of  us  to  afli  her  where  flie  wab  founds 


MY  FLIGHT  TOPARI^v 


*'  In  the  fno.w,'*  anfwered  the  poor  little  crSatUic. 

Over  the  door  of  the  room  is  inlcribed,  upon  a  tablet. 

My  father  and  my  mother  have  forfaken  me,  but  tli  J 
"  Lord  hath  had  ccmpaflion  upon  me.'* 

One  room  contains  the  linen  of  thefe  little  orphan f. 
It  was  an  interefting  fight  to  fee  it  entirely  filled  with 
clean  linen  as.  white  as  fnow. 

We  parted  from  the  good  old  nun  with  tears  in  our 
eyes.  I  never  fhail  forget  the  hour  that  I  fpent  there. 
Oh!  had  my  Frederica  but  been  with  me!  vrhat  a  feaft 
would  it  have  been  to  her  gentle  and  benevolent  foul!  I 
could  almoft  fancy  I  fee  her  now,  with  tears  of  pleafmg 
fadnefs  ftreaming  down  her  cheeks. 

The  papers  of  to-day  contained  the  following  witti- 
cifm: 

"  We  have  been  informed,  but  we  do  not  pkage  our- 
*•  felves  for  the  authenticity  of  the  intelligence,  that  in 
"  the  village  of  Romccourt,  near  MeziercB-le-vie,a  woman 
"  was  lately  brought  to  bed  of  three  boys,  to  which 

were  given  the  nicknames  of  La  Nation,  La  Loly  and 
"  Le  Roi.  La  Nation  and  La  Lot  are  dead,  but  Le  Rot 
"  is  Hill  alive,  and  hkely  to  do  well." 

It  v/as  our  intention  to  have  paiTed  the  evening  at  the 
Theatre  Francais  Comique  et  Lyrique^  where  a  favourite 
piece,  which  has  been  very  often  repeated,  called  Nic(y- 
demiis  in  the  Moon,  wT:S  to  be  performed.  But  we  went 
too  late,  and  found  the  houfe  fo  crowded;  that  it  was  im-> 
jiolfible  to  get  places* 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


Our  evil  genius,  therefore,  led  us  on  to  the  Theatre 
Comlque  des  AJfocuSy  where  we  found  places  with  diffi- 
culty, where  we  were  afTailed  on  all  fides  by  heat. and 
ftinks,  and  where  a  perpetual  noife  behind  us,  and  before 
the  door,  deprived  us  of  the  few  crumbs  we  might  other- 
;vife  have  picked  up. 

But  it  was  no  great  lofs,  fmce  there  was  nothing,  I 
believe,  worth  hearing,  for  a  more  miferable  theatre  1 
have  not  feen  in  my  Parifian  pilgrimage.  The  firft  piece 
was  U Honnete  Homme.,  in  one  ^di.  It  contained  fo  little 
of  novelty,  that  though  I  faw  it  now  for  the  firft  time,  I 
could' have  fancied  it  the  hundredth.  Sjcondly,  was  re- 
prefentedZ^  Trtomphs  de  Amour ^  in  three  whining,  in- 
fipid  afls.  Never  did  love  folemnize  a  more  v/earying 
triumph.  X^ftly  came  Les  Etremies  de  la  Liberie  Con- 
quife,  an  opera  in  one  act. 

This  was  beyond  expreflion  filly  and  abfurd.  Mer- 
cury appears,  and  announces  that  Minerva,  Mars,  Bac- 
chus, and  Cupid,  are  on  their  way  to  Paris,  and,  in  con- 
formity to  the  eftabhfhed  cuftom,  intend  to  open  their 
{hops  on  New- Year's  Day,  and  offer  their  goods  to  fale 
at  very  low  prices.  The  deities  announced,  appeared 
immediately  after,  and  fung  their  profeffions  without  any 
mufical  accompaniment,  in  the  true  ballad-finger  tone. 
They  then  adjourned  each  to  a  corner  of  the  ftage,  which- 
they  call  their  foops.  It  muft  be  obfei-ved  by  the  way, 
that  the  ftage,  inftead  of  being  illuminated  after  the 
ufual  mauner,  was  lighted  only  by  one  ordinary  lanthorn* 


MY   FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


Abundance  of  purcliafers  now  appeared.  T  Then'51 
offered  her  v/ifdom,  and  Mirs  his  courage  to  fak-,  at 
Very  cheap  rate.  To  the  latter,  his  cii 'Vomers  rep^*.d> 
that  they  hnd  al/eady  a  profuiion  of  this  comrr.odi'-y 
the  natioTi,  and  that  the  French  were  the  firft  p  oplc 
"V^'ho  had  br  »ught  real  freedom  d  vvn  upon  the  earths 
l-.a  Fr/ette  \V33  every  m'.:rrie  it  named  or  fung.  Happy 
^as  it  fur  him  that  he  cuuld  not  h^nr  it.  The  clergy 
rr.ufi  alfo  here,  as  ev  ry  where,  be  n-i^A-:  fubje(5ls  of  ridi- 
cule. Among  the  throng  was  an  Abbe,  who  had  becri 
deprived  of  his  benefice,  whom  Minerva  invited  to  be  her 
cuflomer.  He  replied,  that  his  orde  ,  it  was  true,  ha<l 
always  had  learning  and  wifdom  in  their  mouths,  but  net 
in  their  hearts.  He  therefore  m;ide  hia  bow  to  her,  and 
went  over  to  Bacchus  ai  d  Cupid,  whofe  wares  through- 
out found  the  readicfl  fale. 

But  fmce  few  at  lafl  became  purchafers,  and  the  ddtks 
expreflld  their  furprife  at  it,  the  Goddefs  Liberty  herfclf 
appeared  in  the  form  of  a  fat  milk-maid,  and  faid,  Hie 
would  explain  the  riddle.  It  was  well  known,  fhe  ob- 
ftrved,  that  the  French  love  variety  in  their  amufements. 
V/ifdcm,  courage,  love,  and  wine,  they  hadpoiTeiTed  for 
many  centuries,  but  hberty  never  till  this  moment,  and 
it  was  therefore  moil  natural  that  they  /liould  now  run 
after  her.  Ludicrous  enough,  that  liberty  fhould  be 
confidered  only  as  an  amufement,  which  the  French  have 
fought  by  way  of  variety!  Ludicrous  enough  !... .yet 
at  the  fame  time  il  mufl  be  owned  that  it  is  apparently 
very  true. 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  F-*T?TS. 


251 


or  no  evening  fince  ray  arr!*^!  at  Paris  have  I  ^dt  £<y 
Jieartily  weary  a;  of  this. 

The  Palais  Rv>yal  was  very  brilliant.  The  fiic^ps 
were  all  fet  out  in  the  higheft  ta'le,  and  fplendidly  illu- 
miriated.  There  were  particularly  a  iiun^.ber  of  ext-^mcly 
prwtty  things  made  in  lugar,  and  the  fuper-abuad  mtly 
ia^a^ed  Preach  raa  after  them  very  eager- y,' 

J/vNU/iP.  V  2. 

I  tranfcribe  the  following  advc-tifemcnt  ircm  a  p  iper 
cf  to  day,  in  the  full  conviction  that  it  can  be  m.a  .1 
Qv.ly  as  joke,  uiice  it  feems  fcarcdy  pciTible  that  any  one 
(hould  ferioufly  put  forth  fuch  a  tilTue  of  abfurdity. 

**  In  the  Bwreau  de  Fcyer^  in  the  circus,  Kuedu  Grand 
**  Coantler,  at  number  one,  in  the  firft  ftory,  is  a  painter 
*'  of  much  greater  profcffional  /kill  than  Raphael,  Rubens^ 
•*  or  M-chael  Angelo.    He  can  paint  five  and-twenty 
"  portraits  in  a  day,  of  any  price,  from  eighteen  livrcs  to 
**  a  hundred  louis,  and  fo  on  by  the  week  or  month.  For 
**  the  poor  this  is  done  gratis.    He  is  ve!7  confident  of 
**  foon  acquiring  a  fcrtune,  either  by  excellent  recom- 
**  mendations,  or  by  imraenfe  lotteri 's  where  nobody  fhail 
put  in,  yet  every  body  win;  or  by  grand  fpeculations, 
the  infallibility  of  which  is  proved  in  a  hiv  dred  new 
and  furprifiiig  volumes.    All  other  forts  of  paintings 
at  p-i/portionable  prices.'* 

My  readers  may  perhapj  be  afloniflied,  but  this  is  not 

all. 

*'  Stoves  to  be  bad  of  fifteen  inches  in  diameter,  and 
'^wcnty-£ve  inches  in  hc*^ht,  v.  lilch  commuaicate 


252 


M\  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


o  much  heat  as  fifty  common  ftoves,  and 'would  warm 
the  whole  circus  daily  for  twelve  fous.  Farther; 
chimneys  of  giafs,  and  uncombuftible  paper,  ftoves  of 
gauze,  glafs,  wood,  pafteboard,  or  linen,  from  nine 
<^  Kvres  to  fifty  louis.'' 

If  this  was  not  inferted  under  the  abiurd  idea  of  aa 
excellent  joke,  though  it  is  difficult  to  difcover  any  joke 
in  it,  it  mull  have  come  from 'a  mad-houfe.  I  will  not 
be  fool  enough  to  go  thither,  left  it  fhouid  fare  with  me 
as  with  the  audience  of  Hans  North,  when  he  promifed 
to  creep  through  a  bottle, 

I  was  fo  ill  this  morning,  that  I  could  not  go  out. 
For  fome  days  I  have  been  apprehenfive  of  fuch  an  at- 
tack, but  I  hoped  that  it  might  be  kept  off  by  diflipa- 
lion.  In  vain !  I  was  obliged,  therefore,  to  have  re- 
courfe  to  my  old  friends,  camomile  tea  and  powders, 
from  which  I  have  fo  often  received  great  benefit.  Alas! 
v;hat  ufed  to  be  a  balm  to  my  foul  in  all  my  corporeal 
fiifferings,  is  now  loft  to  me,  and  I  feel  the  anguifh  of 
them  doubled. 

Oh,  my  Frederica!  how  unjuft  M^as  I  towards  fate 
when  I  fo  often  wanted  to  gather  the  rofesthatbloffomed 
T-round  me,  without  the  thorns.  Even  thofe  hours  of 
anguifii  vvhen  I  have  walked  up  and  down  the  room  racked 
and  tortured  with  my  malady,  when  I  could  not  fpeak 
to  any  one,  no,  not  to  thee,  and  could  think  of  nothing 
but  myfelf,  even  thofe  hours  are  charming  to  me  in  re^ 
colleclion,  for  then  thou  wert  with,  me!  Then  didft 
thou  fit  upon  a  corner  of  the  fopha  in  fiience,  with  thj, 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


work  in  thy  hands,  from  which  thou  didft  fometlmes  take 
a  llolen  glance  towards  me,  yet  cautioufly  avoiding  to 
wipe  a  tear  frpm  thine  eyes,  unkfs  when  ray  back  wai 
turned.  Xhus  fometimes  have  we  paffed  whole  hours. 
Yet,  while  all  that  was  mortal  about  me  was  in  agony^ 
my  foul  could  ftjU  feel  the  highell  enjoyment  in  the  fe- 
rene  tranfpo.rts  of  domeftic  happinefs.. 

But  when  thefe  corporeal  feelings  fubfided,  and  the 
fpiritual  obtained  the  complete  afcendancy,  what  then 
were  our  mutual  ecftalies?  I  gave  thee  my  hand.. ..it  wa> 
the  well-known  fignal  that  my  fufFerings  were  abated... « 
thy  work  was  laid  afide,  and  I  no  loHger  thought  only  of 
myfelf,  walked  only  by  myfelf,  but  arm  in  arm,  we  paced 
the  room  together.. ..then  one  kifs,  and  all  was  forgotten. 

Happy  and  cheerful,  I  laid  myfelf  do\vn  upon  the 
fopha,  the  more  happy  for  being  alone  with  thee,  for 
never  then  did  I  find  the  time  pafs  heavily,  Perhapsr 
thou  didft  take  a  book  and  read  to  m.e,  or  went  to  the 
harpfichord,  while  I  accompanied  thee  with  my  flute. 
Ye  bliisfal  hours,  never,  never  can  ye  be  repeated !  Oh ! 
we  were  fo  all-fufficient  to  each  other,  that  every  thing 
elfe  appeared  fuperfluous  to  us.  If  fometimes  we  fan- 
cied vire  might  find  amufement  at  a  baij,  or  fome  other 
diverfion,  and  went  thither,  the  moment  the  clock  ftruck 
ten,  my  Frederlca  came  to  me,  or  I  went  to  her,  "  My 
**  love,  (hall  we  not  go  home?"  **  Oh,  yes,"  was  the 
conftant  anfwer;  and  the  firft  words,  as  we  entered  our 
own  houfe,  were,  "  Thank  God,  we  are  again  here!" 

y 


254 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


Yei  who  have  never  tafted  the  fvreets  of  wedded  happi- 
nefs,  may  perhaps  diftend  your  faces  into  a  farcallic  fniile 
at  reading  thefe  eflPufions.     Poor  men  ! — In  one  refpedl 
only  are  ye  to  be  envied,  ye  have  nothing  to  lo^''e. 

In  the  evening  I  was  fo  much  better,  that  I  ventured 
to  the  opera,  where  the  fplendid  fpedlacle  of  Amida 
was  performed.  I  fay  nothing  of  the  mufic,  I  do  not  pre- 
tend to  be  a  conno'ifeury  but  the  name  of  Guick  befpeaks 
excellence.  The  decorations  are  indeed  fuperb  beyond  all 
cxprefiion.  The  fhower  of  fire  that  falls  from  heaven,  in 
which  Armida  afcends  into  the  air,  and  looks  dov/n 
upon  the  burning  ruins  of  her  caiile,  was  horribly  fme. 

I  muft  here  make  a  remark,  which  principally  concerns 
our  German  players.  The  opera  was  this  evening  un- 
commonly thin,  probably  becaufe  the  Comediens  de  Mon- 
Jieur  firll  opened  their  new  theatre,  and  the  company  all 
thronged  thither.  But  notwdthftanding  this  failure  of 
fpeftators,  the  performers  exerted  thcmfelves  with  no 
lefs  ardour  than  if  the  houfe  had  been  crowded  in  every 
part.  No  ill-humor  was  vifible  on  a  fingle  countenance, 
no  appearance  of  fullennefs  or  difcontent.  Our  German 
players,  on  the  contrary,  are  always  difconcerted  at  a 
thin  houfe,  and  gabble  over  their  parts  with  evident 
peevifhnefs  and  ill-will.  They  feem  rejoiced  to  get  off 
the  ftage,  and  the  audience  are  not  very  forry  to  fee 
them  go.  This  I  have  often  obferved,  even  in  our 
beft  players,  and  I  mull  feverely  reprobate  it, 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


.255 


JANUARY  3. 

I  cannot  remain  longer  at  Paris,  for  v/ere  I  to  con- 
tinue here  a  whole  year,  I  ihould  never  find  myfelf  at 
home,  and  where  I  am  not  at  horns,  I  cannot  be  even 
contented.  A  number  of  iriiles,  each  of  which  taken 
feparately,  might  appear  infignificant,  all  together  make 
ir.y  iHy  here  very  uncomfortable,  I  do,  indeed,  believe 
that  the  fame  wiW  always  be  felt  by  thofe  who  have  been 
accuftom;id  to  a  certain  uniform  mode  of  life;  or,  why 
ihould  I  not  fpeak  in  plain  terms  ?  who  are  fomewhat 
precife,  which  is  certainly  my  cafe. 

I  like  to  rife  at  fix  in  the  mcrnin^.  In  Gennany,  I 
can  have  my  breakfaft  at  any  time,  here  I  muft  wait  till 
thQ  garcon  at  the  coffe-houfe  (hall  be  pleafed  to  leave  his 
bed,  which  may  not  be  perhaps  till  between  eight  and 
nine,  confequ  '^ntly  1  amkeptfafting  for  three  hours.  This 
is  fo  contrar/  to  my  ufual  pra6licj,  that  it  gives  me  very 

unpleafant  fenfations. 

In  the  fecond place.  The  fire  warms  me  orJy  in  f-  cit 
and  the  room  it  does  not  warm  at  all.  I  love  an  t-  \ 
warmth  throughout.  Befides,  the  intolerable  blaze  in 
the  chimney  is  extremely  pernicious  to  the  eyes. 

Thirdly,  NotwrithHanding  that  our  rooms  are  hand- 
fomely  fux-nifhed  with  filk  and  mahogany,  they  are  only 
paved  with  ftone.  This  I  diHike  moil  Iieartily,  fince  I 
muft  always  fit  in  warm  boots,  to  prevent  the  chill  and 
damp  aftecling  my  feet. 

Fourthly.  As  the  good  people  here  do  not  ufuallv 
rife  till  noon,  fo  they  do  not  diue  till  evening.    Triis  is 


256 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


i.ifarFerable  to  thofe  who  are  accmlomed  to  order  tlieir 
meals  with  the  regularity  of  clock-work. 

Flflhlj,  After  having  waited  fo  long  for  dinner,  \i 
is  at  lad  not  worth  having,  unlefs  Iiidcsd  one  can  con* 
tent  to  parchafe  a  tdlerable  meal  at  the  intolerable  price 
of  a  louis.  I,  for  my  part,  who  am  of  opinion  that  half 
a  dollar  ought  to  furnifh  the  table  decently,  do  not  like 
to  pay  more.  But  for  this  I  only  get  meagre  broth  with 
fodden  beef,  a  naufeo^is  fricaflee,  or  roaft  meat  of  fome 
kind,  dried  to  a  cinder.  If  it  were  net  for  pctatees, 
which  we  have  regularly  eveiy  day,  we  might  cftcn  riff 
hungry  from  table.  The  wine  is  as  bad  as  it  is  dear,  and 
the  water,  even  when  filtrated,  milky,  muddy,  and  of  a 
fweetifh  tafte. 

Sixthly,    The  beds  are  another  grievance.  ;  :  re 

as  hard  as  the  benches  in  an  alehoufe,  and  he  who  13  cf 
a  plethoric  habit,  would  Hand  but  a  b:id  chance  in  them, 
fince  there  is  nothing  to  fupport  his  head  but  a  little 
round  thing  much  like  the  pillows  we  ufe  on  fopha^.  I 
have  always  been  obliged  to  lay  my  coat  and  cloak  un- 
derneath it,  to  raife  my  head  only  to  a  level  \vith  my  feet. 

Seventhly.  He  who  has  been  in  the  habit  of  going 
to  bed  regularly  at  ten  o'clock,  if  he  adhere  to  his  prac- 
tice, will  in  vain  hope  to  fleep,  till  he  become  accuficmed 
to  the  eternal  rattle  of  carriages,  wich  never  ceafes  till 
tv/o  in  the  morning.  It  feems  as  if  the  olympic  games 
v/ere  celebrating  under  the  windows,  and  all  X\\cjiacrcs^ 
in  Paris  were  running  for  the  prizes. 

Such  are  the  evils  experienced  within  doors.  If  a 
man  venture  out,  a  thoufand  new  ones  are  to  b^  encoun- 
tered. 


MY  FI>IGHT  TO  PARIS. 


257 


Sappafmg  the  expedition  is  to  be  made  on  foot,  he- 
mud  wade  through  a  black  mu-e  all  the  way,  and  ex- 
ped  to  be  run  againfl,  firfl  by  a  water  cafl<,  then  by  a 
fi(li-woman....rirft  by  a  crier,  then  by  a  fedan.chair....or 
to  be  fpattered  all  over  with  mud  by  the  carriages.. ..or 
to  be  affailed  by  a  hundred  be^^garG... .or  tormented  by  a 
hundred  ladies  of  pleafure....or  to  be  flopped  by  a  hun- 
dred Savoyards  with  fomething  or  other  to  fell,  who  al- 
ways take  all  foreigners  for  Milords  ready  to  throw 
their  money  into  the  ftreets,  and  whom  they  can  con- 
fequently  dupe  at  pleafure.  Then,  if  furmo anting  all 
thefe  obftaclcs,  he  have  got  the  length  of  one  ftreet,  be- 
fore he  can  crofs  into  another,  it  may  perhaps  be  necef- 
fary  to  Hop  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  watching  an  opportu- 
nity to  efcapc  without  being  run  over.  I,  who  am  never 
more  given  up  to  fancy  than  when  walking  along  the 
ilreets,  find  thefe  things  intolerable. 

Then,  if  to  avoid  thefe  inconveniencies,  he  get  into  a 
carriage,  the  chances  are  ten  to  one  that  in  the  narrow, 
angular  ftreets,  from  the  concourfe  of  other  carriages, 
lie  may  be  amused  not  unfrequently  with  a  stop  of  many 
minutes,  ere  it  be  pofiible  to  pafs  ;  all  which  time  is 
spent  n-cezing  to  death  with  the  v/inds  that  draw  in  at 
every  corner  in  thefe  airy  vehicles,  and  upon  the  rack 
with  impatience.  And  when  at  lail  the  coachman,  by 
great  dexterity,  gets  through  this  labyrinth,  and  arrives 
fafely  at  the  place  of  deflination,  it  is  fcarcely  pomble  to 
cfcape  under  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  v,rrangle  with  him, 
fmce  he  con'lantly  innils  upon  more  than  is  his  due.  It  is 
Y  2 


258 


MY   FLIGHT   TO  PARIS. 


well  known  that  the  drivers  of fiacres  never  were  diftln- 
guifhed  For  their  poUieJey  and  it  will  hardly  be  fuppofed 
th«t  in  the  prefent  rage  for  liberty  they  are  improved  in 
this  refpedl. 

But  or>e  of  my  greatell  grievances  is  the  air  cf  Paris. 
Let  the  heavens  be  ever  fo  clear  and  ferene,  Hill  an  eter- 
nal mift  hovers  over  the  town,  nor  is  it'poflible  to  fee 
any  objedthe  lengthof  aftreet.  The  compofitionof  this 
mill  is  principally  a  pungent  fmoke,  arifing  from  the 
profufion  of  cook-fiiops,  and  which,  in  pafiing  them, 
has  often  afFedled  my  head  fo  much  ew  to  make  my  eyes 
water.  Indeed,  the  effedl  has  frequently  continued 
when  the  caufe  no  longer  exifted,  and  I  hold  this  fleam, 
therefore,  to  be  of  an  extremely  pernicious  quality. 

Two  things  more  yet  remain  to  be  noticed*  The  in- 
fuficrable  egotifm  of  the  inhabitants,  which  is  to  me 
offenfive  beyond  exprefiion....and  their  propenfty  to 
fraud  and  impofitlon. 

He  who  does  not  look  well  to  vi'hat  he  is  about,  may 
depend  upon  his  being  cheated  of  his  money  in  all  pofil- 
ble  ways  ;  and  this  in  fo  grofs  and  fhamelefs  a  manner, 
that  it  cannot  but  excite,,  in  every  honeft  bofom,  the 
decpcll  contempt  and  difguft  at  fo  profligate  and  merce- 
nary a  race. 

I  bought  a  little  Spanifh  dog  one  day  in  the  Palais- 
Royal.  It  was  then  of  a  beautiful  brown  colour,  but  it 
had  not  been  many  days  in  my  pofTeflion,  before  this 
changed  to  a  dingy  yellow,  and,  at  length,  to  a  perfe<3: 
white.  The  animal,  in  fa£^,  was  painted.  For  myfelf, 
I  cared  httk  about  the  matter,  but  I  felt  indignant  at 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


having  been  made  the  objed  of  fuch  a  p^tty  contempti- 
ble fraud. 

All  tliefe  things  make  Paris  dally  more  and  more  in- 
fupportable  to  me,  and  as  I  revolved  them  over  in  my 
mind  this  mornino-,  I  fuddenly  came  to  the  refolution  of 
leaving  it  to-n^orrow. 

But  leave  Paris  without  going  to  the  National  AfTem- 

bly  ?  No,  that  cannot  be.    Monfiear  I'Abbe  de  R  

had  indeed  repeatedly  made  liberal  proraifes  of 'getting  us 
tickets  of  admilTion,  yet,  like  moll  of  his  countrymen, 
had  put  us  off  with  fine  words  only.  Eat  fince  we  could 
not  be  immediately  aware,  that  to  promife  and  to  per- 
form were,  with  him,  two  things,  we  had  been  prevented 
feeking  them  by  other  m.eans.  Happily,  however,  a 
man  may  have  any  thing  here  for  money,  and  even  tick- 
ets for  the  National  AlTembly  are  made  a  lucrative 
brajich  of  traflic ;  a  trafSc  that  can  hardly  be  concealed 
from  the  reprefentatives,  and  which,  for  their  own  credit^ 
they  ought  to  fupprefs.  Our  fervant  procured  us,  with- 
out difficulty,  two  tickets  for  three  livres  each. 

We  were  obliged  to  alight  at  fome  diftance  from  the 
place  where  the  fittings  are  held,  and  had  two  or  three 
r-oiirts  to  wade  through  before  we  reached  the  hall.  la 
one  of  thefe  v^'e  were  in  imminent  dantjer  of  flickiiio-  fail 
in  the  black-mire ;  and  another  was  fo  full  of  water, 
that  the  Savoyards  had  laid  planks  along  it,  v/hich  we 
rauft  pay  for  going  over.  Perhaps  they  had  themfelvcs 
drenched  it  v/ith  water  with  this  very  defign.  Thef^ 
things  began,  even  at  the  outfet,  to  lefTen  my  ideas  of  the 
AlTembly  of  th'iir  fvjdve  hundred  Majefties, 


260 


MY  FLIC  HP  TO  PARIS. 


We  now  approached  the  room  itfelf.  And  hark !  the 
/libuts  of  hberty  refoiinded  in  our  ears.  At  the  diftance 
of  at  leaft  two  hundred  fteps  we  were  faluted  with  a  tu- 
multuous burft  of  laughter,  proceding  from  the  Affem^ 
bly.  We  were  conduced  into  a  gallery,  which  war,  al- 
ready occupied  by  people  three  deep,  fo  that  we  did  not 
get  even  a  convenient  place  for  our  fix  livres.  The  hall 
is  very  long  and  wide,  and  on  each  fide  benches  for  the 
members  are  ranged  in  an  amphitheatral  form.  Many, 
however,  walk  about,  and  many  alfo,  ftand  in  the  area 
in  the  niidle,  or  run  iiril  to  this  fide,  then  to  that,  with 
tablets  in  their  hands,  in  which  they  v»Titc  from  time 
to  time. 

The  debate  was  very  animated.  As  we  entered,  a 
young  man  upon  the  left  hand  was  fpeaking.  He  de- 
claimed vehemently  againfl  the  clergy,  and  fpoke  of  a 
prieft  who  had  fubjoined  the  following  limitation  to  his 
oath:  conformally  to  nvhat  ivas  ordained  hy  the  bijhop  of 
Lydda,  This  occafioned  a  great  commotion.  They  all 
began  talking  and  exclaiming  together,  -and  bandied 
jokes  and  iarcafrns  backwards  and  forwards,  laughing  at 
them  ail  the  tinie  moH  unmercifully.  Tliis  tumultuous 
laughter,  v/hich  was  very  often  repeated,  appeared  to  me 
truly  unv/orthy  the  dignity  of  fuch  an  affembly,  honour- 
ed with  the  title  of  reprefentatives  of  a  great  nation.  I 
confefs,  that  were  I  a  member  of  it,  theie  witticifms,  and 
this  mirth,  would  ddve  mc  out  again  as  quickly/  as  I  was 
driven  out  now,  when  only  an  auditor.  For  after  a  fo- 
lemn  refoiution  was  pafTed,  that  the  clergy  fhould  fwear 
v/ithout  rcfervation,  i;nd  the  AfTembly  proceeded  to  dif- 


MY  tLlGltr  TO  PARIS. 


itilfing  in  what  manner  witnefles  fhould  be  examined  in 
future,  1  was  {o  Unit  iiitereftcd  that  I  went  away.  I 
entered  the  hall  with  great  eJipedations,  but  departed 
with  very  petty  imprelTions  upon  my  uiind. 

In  the  evening  we  packed  up  our  trunks,  which  occu- 
pied us  to  fo  late  an  hour  that  we  could  not  get  places 
at  the  opera,  which  I  wifiied  to  vifit  for  the  lafl  time:  we 
therefore  went  to  the  Theatre  dj  la  Natlont  where  waa 
reprefented  Turcarety  a  pretty  httle  comic  opera,  abound- 
ing with  wit.  It  was  fo  admirably  perform :^d,  that  I 
Quitted  the  houf?,  fully  convinced  that  the  Frciich  actors 
cannot  be  exc^f^^dccl,  in  coirird7>  by  thof^  of  any  nation. 

An  anocdot,;,  which  I  learned  this  afiiernoon,  from  very 
good  authority,  miifl  not  be  omitted.  When  the  Duke 
oi  Oiicaus  was  at  court,  on  New-Year's  Day,  and  was 
fldndiiig  to  warm  himfjlf  by  the  chimney,  one  of  the 
courtiers  faid  to  ancthet,  in  a  fort  of  half  whifper,  yet 
taking  care  that  the  duke  fliould  overhear  him,  WhcJ 
lufitiefs  has  that  Rava'illac  here?  The  duke,  however^ 
was  fo  prudent  as  to  turn  a  deaf  ear  to-  the  remark. 

JANUARY,  4. 

At  fix  o'clock  we  quitted  Paris  in  the  famous  DiK- 
gence.  I  was  fomewhat  better  reconciled  to  it  in  thi» 
journey  than  in  my  former,  fmce  there  was  only  a  fmgle 
paffenger  befides  ourfelves ;  a  printer,  going  to  Peterf- 
burgh,  very  filent  and  modeil  in  his  demeanour,  confe- 
quently  in  no  way  troublefome  to  us.  We  were  feated 
very  commodioufly,  could  flretch  out  our  legs  and  arms 
at  pleafure,  had  no  difputes  about  opening  or  (hutting 


2G2 


MY    FLIGHT   TO  PARIS. 


the  windows,  were  not  compelled  to  liilen  to  miferablc 
jokes  and  common  infipid  Diligence-converfation,  and 
had,  to  crown  all,  moil  charming  weatlier.  All  thefe 
advantages  put  us  into  good  humour,  and  gave  U6  fpirits 
and  firength  to  contend  with  the  few  inconvenienceB 
that  remained, and  wluch  could  not  hy  any  meanb  be  ob- 
viated. 

When  we  had  turned  our  backs  upon  Paris  about  an 
hour,  and  began  again  to  breathe  pure  and  uncontami- 
nated  air,  I  felt  as  if  a  rock  had  been  removed  from  off 
my  heart.  If  my  feelings  were  not  happy,  they  have, 
at  lead,  not  for  a  long  time  been  fo  compofed  as  on  the 
two  firft  days  of  our  journey.  The  road  lay  along  the 
banks  of  the  Marne,  The  country  is  all  the  way  highly 
cultivated,  and  pofTefTes  an  infinite  variety  of  charms,  all 
which  appeared  to  the  higheft  advantage,  from  being 
illumined  by  the  genial  rays  of  a  mild  fun.    I  could  not, 

indeed,  help  feeling  fome  aftoniHimcnt,  that  fcenery  fo 
fmiling  and  lovely  had  not  been  made  the  fubje6l  of  in- 
numerable idylls.  I  kept  the  window  by  me  conftantly 
open,  never  weary  with  contemplating  the  charms  of 
peaceful  nature;  and,  though  I  thought  little,  I  felt 
much.  Thanks  to  thee,  worthy  printer,  thou  wert  ge- 
nerally afleep,  and  didft  not  teaze  me  with  talking. 

We  went  by  Saint  Menehould  to  Metz,  where  we  ar- 
rived on  the  feventh.  The  theatre,  to  which  I  immedi- 
ately repaired,  muft,  I  imagine,  be  one  of  the  beft  pro- 
vincial theatres  in  France.  The  houfe  is  v^ry  handfome, 
but  nothing  elfe  was  worth  feeing. 


MY  FLIGHT  TO  PARIS. 


We  hired  a  carriage  at  Metz  to  carry  us  to  Mentz, 
i-he  driver  of  which  fpoke  a  little  miferable  German,  in  a 
vile  Lorraine  dialect.  The  poor  devil,  whofe  head  was 
fet  into  fomewhat  of  a  whirl  by  liberty,  had  nearly  fallen 
a  martyr  to  his  idol  among  the  good  Germans,  who,  if 
their  princes  be  deferving,  cleave  to  them  with  heart  and 
foul. 

Of  this  defcription  is  the  Prince  of  Leiningen,  oa 
whom  our  coachman  was  pleafed  to  call  fome  reflec- 
tions, at  one  ef  the  inns  where  we  ftopped,  becaufe  we 
had  been  obliged  to  pay  for  a  good  chaujfee  vtYi^n  no 
chaujfee  was  in  exiftence. 

Now,  ^tis  very  true,  that  there  is  a  great  deal  of  un- 
fair play  with  refpcch  to  the  money  paid  for  keeping  up 
the  roads  in  Germany,  but  our  gentleman  (hould  have 
noticed  it  with  more  circumfpe6lion.  This  want  of  cau- 
tion he  was  made  to  feel  very  feverely.  The  hoft,  an  el- 
derly man,  did  not  appear  at  firft  to  pay  much  attention 
to  his  remarks,  but  his  fon,  a  fiery  impetuous  young 
fellow,  took  up  the  matter  \vi\h.  fufficient  warmth,  and 
uttered  a  volley  of  imprecations,  and  farcafms,  in  part 
upon  the  whole  French  nation,  in  part  only  upon  the 
French  individual  who  had  given  the  offence.  This  at 
length  roufed  the  creeping  blood  of  the  old  man,  and 
he,  too,  joined  his  eloquence  to  his  fon's.  In  vain  did 
the  poor  coachman  endeavour  to  avert  their  wrath,  by 
giving  them  the  faireft  words  poflible,  and  alTuring  them 
moft  folemnly,  that  what  he  faid  was  mere  joke;  both 
father  and  fon  were  preparing  to  give  iiim  corporeal 


264. 


MY  :--LIGHT  TO  PARISe 


chaftifement,  and,  had  we  not  interpofed,  he  h^id  pjo^ 
bably  been  difabled  from  purfuing  his  journey  for  thre£ 
days  at  leaft.  I  would  venture  a  confideraJ>Ie  wager,  that 
when  the  fellow  returns  hom.e»  he  will  fhrug  hisihouiders 
and  fay,  "  Ah,  thefe  German  dunces!  *tis  not  worth  a 
"  man*s  while  to  give  himfelf  the  trouble  of  preaching 
"  liberty  among  them!'* 

A  fhort  time  before  we  arrived  at  the  place  where  this 
unlucky  adventure  happened,  as  we  were  purfuing  our 
way,  amid  hills  and  woods,  we  palTed  a  pretty  little  hunt- 
ing-feat, in  a  very  wild  and  romantic  country.  The 
beauty  of  its  fituation  excited  my  attention,  but  that  was 
dill  more  arretted  by  a  fmall  round  building  in  a  thicket, 
over  which  was  infcribed  Solomon  Gessner.  I  cannot 
exprefs  my  furpnfe.  I  flopped  the  carriage,  alighted^ 
and  made  a  pilgrimage  to  the  fpot.  The  temple  was 
not  quite  finifhed,  and  had  nothing  ftriking  in  it,  but  the 
idea  charmed  mt ;  and  in  my  heart  I  bleffcd  the  prince 
who  could  pay  fuch  an  honourable  tribute  to  German 
poetry. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  above-mentioned  inn,  an^l 
noticed  to  the  Leiningian  patriot  what  we  had  feen  : 

Oh,  yes,"  faid  the  old  man,  "  I  know  what  you 

mean. ...'tis  Solomon's  Temple." 
In  the  fame  narrow  valley  I  faw  the  moft  pi6lurefque 
ruins  that  are  perhaps  to  be  found  in  all  Germany.  I  was 
told,  that  they  are  the  remains  of  a  caftle  deftroyed  ip 
the  thirty  years  war.  My  informer,  however,  was  a  Jew, 
in  whofe  hiftorical  knov/ledge  I  do  not  place  any  great 
confidence^ 


MY    FLIGHT   TO  PARIS. 


2Gj 


jANUAilY  12. 

We  arrived  at  Mentz,  for  the  prefent  the  boundaiy 
of  my  travels.  The  climate  here  is  foft  and  mild,  the 
country  about  tranfcendently  beautiful,  and  the  fociety 
fuch  as  is  very  pleafant,  at  leafl  to  him  who  is  always 
pleafed  with  being  alone. 

The  theatre  is  one  of  the  beft  in  Germany,  and  has 
an  excellent  company,  for  which  it  is  principally  indebted 
to  the  Baron  Von  Dalberg.  MefTrs.  Cook,  Chrifl  and 
Porfch,  are  certainly  at  the  head  of  their  profe{iion.  The 
firft  is  too  feldom  to  be  feen,  fince  one  wifhes  to  fee  him 
conllantly.  The  lovely  Madame  Porfch,  the  roguifli 
Madame  Mende,  and  Madame  Eunike,  the  natural 
Gurli,  are  at  the  head  of  the  female  performers  upon 
this  ftage.  Seldom  will  fo  much  beauty  be  found  in  one 
company. 

The  opera  here  is  alfo  upon  a  very  good  eftablifhment. 
I  need  only  mention  Madame  Walter,  and  Madame 
Schick,  to  confirm  what  I  advance. 

Any  further  obfervations  upon  Mentz  I  wave. 


POSTSCRIPT  AND  DEDICAllON. 


All  that  I  have  written  above  are  the  pure  eiTafions 
of  my  inmoft  foul,  infcribed  without  ftudy  or  art.  Many 
inaccuracies  may  perhaps  be  found  in  them,  but  they 
muft  remain....!  cannot  poliih  or  alter  a  fyllable;  for, 
Were  that  to  be  done,  the  chara£ler  of  the  work  would 
be  entirely  deftroyed. 

I  wifhed  to  give  a  faithful  reprefentation  of  m.y  feel- 
fngs,  to  ihow  how,  amid  a  thoufand  diffipations  in  which 
I  engaged,  they  uniformly  remained  the  fame.  He  who 
has  read  this  little  book,  knows  me  as  well  as  I  know 
myfelf.  At  the  beginning  I  was  doubtful  whether  it 
Vould  entertain  the  reader.... now  it  is  finiflied I  hope  that 
it  may.  Why  fhould  it  not  be  read  with  as  much  plea- 
fure  as  a  romance?  Truth  has  generally  afferted  its  fu- 
periority  over  ficlion,  and  here  is  truth,  if  truth  ever  wag 
written. 

I  have,  within  a  few  days,  been  ilrongly  confirmed  in 
this  hope.  In  the  fupplement  to  a  Hamburgh  newf- 
paper,  which  fell  accidentally  into  my  hands,  I  found  an 
article  addrefTed  to  mc.    I  ftarted,  and  read : 


26S 


rCSTf  CF.IPT  AND  HEDIC  ATIOlx  . 


"  A  number  of  friends,  ci  botli  fexes,  in  Silefia, 

wholly  unknown  to  me,  only  attradled  towards  me 
"  by  the  Urong  bands  of  feeling  and  fympathy,  delire  to 
"  offer  me  this  public  tefiimcny  of  their  forrow  for  my 
"  lofs,'and  participation  in  my  afniclion,  as  well  as  their 
*'  wiflies  to  confole  me." 

I  cannot  exprefs  how  much  this  little  piece  of  atten- 
tion furprifed,  affefled,  and  dehghted  me.  What  a  fvveet 
reward  is  it  to  poetry,  thus  to  find  compafTion  and  friend- 
Hjip,  under  a  foreign  climate,  at  a  time  when  both  are  fo 
much  wanted! 

I  here  return  my  fincere  thanks  to  thcfe  excellent  peo- 
ple, and  heartily  wifli  them,  long  to  retain  all  the  tender 
ties  they  now  enjoy.  Hearts  hke  theirs  cannot  fail  to 
have  m.any  friends  and  dear  connexions;  and,  while  the fe 
are  retained,  they  may  truly  be  pronounced  happy. 

I  am  thus  afTured  that  there  is  a  circle  from  which 
my  work  will  not  be  fpurned.  And  if  m.y  fate  meets 
with  fympathy  in  Silefia,  where  I  am  unknown,  why 
iTiEy  I  not  hope  to  find  equal  pity  in  other  countries, 
which  I  never  do,  and  perhaps  never  fhall,  vifit. 

Then,  in  God's  name,  thou  httle  book,  go  fourth 
and  feek  thy  fortune  I  Fly  the  roofs  of  the  happy,  feek 
ftielter  only  with  the  unhappy,  there  wilt  thou  be  receiv- 
ed with  kindnefs  and  refped.  That  I  wrote  thee  was  the 
irrefifiible  impulfe  of  my  heart.. ..that  I  printed  thee  may 
perhaps  be  a  fubject  of  cenfure  for  the  critics ;  and  I 
have  only  to  urge  in  excufe,  the  natural  and  human  wifn, 
to  intereft  men  of  worth  and  feehng  in  my  favour. 


POSTSCRIPT  AND  DEDICATION.  269 


On  the  title  ftood  at  firft,  Ifntfen  for  friends — but 
fince  I  read  that  confoling  article  in  the  paper,  I  have 
enlarged  it  thus,  Written  for  friends^  both  known  and  un- 
known. 

And  now,  to  whom  fhall  I  dedicate  my  work  ?  To 
whom  but  to  her  whofe  many  exalted  virtues  ferved  as  a 
pattern  for  my  Frederica's  imitation. ...a  pattern  whick 
flie  might  nearly  be  faid  to  equal.    To  whom  but  to  thee, 

MOST  EXCELLENT,  MOST  AMIABLE 

MADAME  ROSE. 

To  thee  who  wert  a  mother  to  us,  at  a  time  when  we 
far  removed  from  our  natural  mother... .Oh,  how 
folacing  to  the  heart  is  it  to  acknowledge  kindnefs  that 
has  been  deeply  felt ! 

Alas !  thy  daughter  refts  in  her  long,  lad  fleep !  Oh, 
do  not  caft  from  thee  thy  forfaken  fon  ! — Thy  daughter 
now  repeats  thy  name  with  gratitude  before  the  throne 
of  God! — She  kneels  to  the  fountain  of  eternal  light, 
holding  her  Maurice  by  the  hand  !  her  good,  her  wor- 
thy Maurice  !  Both  beg  a  blefling  upon  thee,  and  my 
prayer  afcends  to  mix  with  the  intercefiions  and  rejocings 
ofthe  blcfTed. 

AUGUSTUS  VON  KOTZEBUE. 


GENERAL  SKETCH 


OF 

KOTZEBUE'S  WORKS. 


DRAMATIC  WORKS  * 

\  HE  Hermit  of  Formentera:  a  mufical  piece,  in  two 

Adelaide  of  Wulfingen :  a  tragedy,  in  five  acts.* 
The  Dilettanti  Theatre  before  the  Parliament :  a  mu- 
fical after-piece,  in  one  act. 

Mifanthropy  and  Repentance  :  a  drama,  in  five  afts.* 
The  Indians  in  England:  a  drama,  in  three  ads.^-- 
Tlie  Beautiful  Stranger:  a  dramatic  piece,  in  one  a£l. 
The  Noble  Lie :  a  dramatic  piece,  in  one  ad:.* 
The  Virgin  of  the  Sun:  a  drama,  in  five  a6ls.* 
The  Natural  Son :  a  drama,  in  five  afts.* 
Brother  Maurice  the  Humourift,  or  the  Colony  for 
the  Pelevi'-  Ifiands:  a  drama,  in  three  a6i:s. 

The  Fem.ale  Jacobin  Club  :  an  after-piece,  in  one  ad. 
The  Parrot:  a  drama,  in  three  a£ls. 

*  Of  all  thofe  marked  with  an  aHeriik,  coirj^kte  Englilh 
'(ivnCations  have  been  puhiiflicd. 


kotzebue's 


WORKS* 


271 


Sultan  Wampum,  or  the  vvifhes:  a  mufical  piece,  in 
three  acts. 

The  Knight  of  the  Mirror :  an  opera,  in  three  adls. 

Count  Benyovvfky,  or  theConfpiracyof  Kamtfchatkai 
a  drama,  in  five  afts.* 

The  Spaniards  in  Peru,  or  the  Death  of  Rolla:  a  tra- 
gedy, in  five  a6ls.* 

Poverty  and  Magnanimity:  a  drama,  in  three  a6ls.* 

The  Man  of  Forty  Years  Old :  an  after-piece,  in  one 

aa. 

The  Widow  arnd  the  Riding-Horfe :  a  dramatic  trifle, 
in  one  adl.* 

The  Repining  Hufbands :  a  dramatic  piece,  in  one  acl^ 
The  -Negro  Slaves :  a  drama,  in  three  a£ls.* 
The  Calumniators:  a  drama,  in  five  adls.* 
Falfe  Shame:  a  comedy,  1n  four  afts.* 
The  Count  of  Burgundy:  a  drama,  in  four  a(3:s»* 
The  Madcap :  a  comedy,  in  three  afts* 
La  Peyroufe  :  a  drama,  in  two  afts,* 
The  Reconciliation :  a  drama,  in  five  acls.* 
The  Relations:  a  comedy,  in  five  acts. 
The  Voluntary  Sacrifice :  a  drama,  in  three  a«5ls.* 
The  Children  of  Misfortune :  an  after-piece, in  one  a6t.  ' 
Th-e  Silver  Wedding-Day:  a  drama,  i-n  five  adls.* 
The  Corficans :  a  drama,  in  four  a6i:s.* 
The  Old  Body  Coachman  to  Peter  the  Third:  a  dra-^- 
matic  piece,  in  one  a^:* 

Ill-humour:  a  drama,  in  four  ads.* 

The  Village  in  the  Mguntains:  a  in afical  piece,  in  two 
aas. 


k:otzebue*s  works. 


The  Hyperborean  Afs:  a  dramatic  piece,  in  one  a£?. 

The  above  is,  according  to  the  beft  information,  the 
tranflator  has  been  able  to  procure,  a  complete  lift  of  all 
the  dramatic  works  hitherto  pubhflied  by  Kotzebue,  in 
Germany.  He  is  known,  befides,  to  have  written  three 
other  pieces,  The  Writlng-Dejh  ;  or,  Touth  in  Danger^ 
Joanna  of  Montfaucon,  and  the  Nenv  Century ,  but  it  is 
believed  that  none  of  thefe  have  yet  been  printed  in  their 
original  language.  A  tranflation  of  the  firft,  from  Kot- 
zebue's  manufcript,  has  been  pubhfhed  in  England.  The 
Neiu  Century  is  a  fatire  upon  the  ridiculous  conteft  that 
has  been  carried  on,  no  lefs  eagerly  upon  the  continent, 
than  in  England,  upon  the  time  when  the  new  century 
commences. 

Of  the  dramas  above  enumerated,  the  principal  have 
been  tranflated  into  Enghlh  j  but  to  fome,  different  titles 
are  affixed  from  thofe  here  given.  The  Indians  in  England 
is  called  The  Eaji  Indian. ...The  Voluntary  Sacrifice,  Self- 
immolation. ...The  Silver  Wedding-Day,  the  Happy  Fam- 
ily....The  CalumniatorSi  the  Force  of  Calumny....^nd  III 
Humour,  the  Peevifh  Man.  But  fmce,  in  thefe  inftances, 
the  titles  in  the  tranflations,  though  perhaps  better,  con- 
fidered  as  EngliHi  ones,  deviate  from  the  originals,  the 
tranflator  has  judged  it  right,  in  enumerating  Kotzebue's 
works,  to  give  them  by  his  own  names.  To  three  of 
,the  pieces,  however,  it  is  difficult  to  give  any  Enghfh 
title  perfeftly  correfponding  with  the  German  one.  One 
of  thefe.  The  Madcap,  has  already  been  noticed.  The 
Voluntary  Sati'ifice  is  another,  but  that  title  is  at  leaft 


KOTZEE UE  S  WORKS. 


Equally  cxpreflive  of  the  German  idea  with  Self-Immola- 
tlon,  and  a  better  Engliih  title.  The  third  inilance  is 
The  Children  of  Misfortntne.  No  Engliih  term  will  ex- 
adly  correfpond  with  the  German  one  ;  it  might  be  call- 
ed The  Unkaj'py  People,  fince  it  has  the  fame  meaning 
as  the  French  term  Les  Malheureux^  In  fome  inflances, 
whsre  a  piece  has  been  tranilated  b}'  diiTerent  perfons, 
it  has  apeared  under  diiTerent  titles;  Thus,  The  Natu- 
ral Son  has  alfobeen  called  The  Child  cf  Zoi;£'....and  The 
Spaniards  in  Peru  has  been  entitled  Rolla  the  Peruvian 
Hero,  and  Pi-zan  o,  or  ihc  Death  of  Rolla, 

The  following  pieces  have  been  performed  upon  the 
Engliih  ftage,  but  wita  confiderable  alterations,  and,  ex^ 
cepting  in  one  inftance,  with  different  titles.  They  have 
appeared  in  the  order  here  given. 

Mifanthropy  and  Repentance,  at  Drury  Lane  The- 
atre, as  the  Stranger. 

The  Natural  Son,  at  Covent  Garden  Theatre,  as  Lo- 
vers' Vows. 

The  Reconciliation,  at  Covent  Garden  Theatre,  as 
The  Birth  Day. 

The  Count  of  Burgundy,  at  Covent  Garden  Theatre, 
with  its  original  title. 

The  WidovvT  and  the  Riding  Horfe,  at  Covent  Gar- 
den Theatre,  as  The  Horfe  and  the  Widow. 

The  Spaniards  in  Peru  ;  or,  the  Death  of  Rolla,  at 
Drury  Lane  Theatre,  as  Pizarro . 

The  Voluntary  Sacrifice,  at  the  Haymarket,  as  Fa- 
mily Diflrcfs. 


274 


KOTZEBUE^S  WORKS.' 


.  The  Indians  in  England,  at  the  Theatre  Stampford, 
TiG  the  Indian  exiles. 

Poverty  and  Magnanimity,  at  the  Haymarket,  as 
feighs;  or,  the  Daughter. 

The  Madcap,  at  Drury  Lane  Theatre,  as  Of  Age 
To-!Morrow. 

Two  plays,  from  maniifcripts  of  Kotzebue's,  have  alfo 
^Deen  performed  at  Covent  Garden  Theatre,  The  Wife 
Man  of  iheEafl,  altered  from  The  Writing  Dejhy  and 
Joanna  of  Montfaucon,  which,  it  is  believed,  bears  the 
fame  title  in  the  original. 

Some  of  the  fmaller  pieces,  perhaps,  do  not  come 
ftri6lly  under  the  defcription  of  dramatic  works.  The 
Dilettanti  Theatre  before  the  Parliament^  is  a  merely  local 
thing,  which  might  be  performed  with  very  good  effeft 
on  the  particular  fpot  where  it  could  be  underftood,  but 
is  not  a  drama  for  the  world  at  large.  The  Hyperborean 
Afsy  too,  is  rather  a  fatyrical  dialogue  than  properly  a 
dramatic  piece.  It  is  written  to  ridicule  The  Athenaum-t 
a  periodical  work  now  pubhihing  in  Germany,  and  which, 
if  any  judgment  may  be  formed  of  it  from  the  quotations 
brought  forward  by  Kotzebue,  muft  be  replete  with  ab- 
furdities.  The  Beautiful  Strangei',  again,  is  a  mixture  of 
drama  and  narrative,  and  it  is  difficult  to  determine  whe- 
ther it  ought  to  be  included  in  the  clafs  of  dramas,  or  of 
tales.  Kotzebue  indeed,  himfelf,  calls  it  a  dramatifed 
tale.    The  plot,  however,  is  a  good  dramatic  one. 

The  pieces  are,  as  much  as  poflible,  arranged  in  chro- 
nological order.  In  this  arrangement  the  tranflator  has, 
in  general,  had  the  author's  o\vn  dates  for  her  guide^ 


KOTZEBUE^S  WORKS. 


275 


ViTith  four  of  the  moft  immaterial,  of  the  dates  of  which 
jlie  could  not  be  certain,  Jfhe  has  been  obliged  to  follow 
conjefture  in  the  places  affigned  them.  Thefe  are,  Th^ 
Noble  Lie,  The  Beautiful  Stranger,  The  Widonv  and  ths 
Riding  Horfe,  and  The  Repining  Hujhands. 

Befides  this  long  lift  of  dramatic  works,  Kotzebuc  ha« 
publifhed, 

The  Sufferings  of  the  Family  of  Ortenberg  :  a  ro- 
mance, in  two  volumes, 

Mifcellaneous  Pieces,  in  four  volumes  ;  and. 

The  Youngeft  Offspring  of  my  Fancy  :  a  mifcellane-* 
ous  colle<5lion,  in  fix  volumes.  ' 

The  firft  of  thefe  has  been  tranflated  into  EngHih, 
The  preceding  Flight  to  Paris,  is  extra6led  from  the 
mifcellaneous  works.  Of  the  other  pieces  in  thefe  vo* 
lum.es,  the  romance  of  Ildegertt,  ^een  of  Norway,  and 
The  Hijiory  of  my  Father,  a  very  whimfical  but  amufing 
trifle,  have  both  received  Englifh  dreffes.  In  thefe  mif- 
cellaneous v/orks  ar€  included  fome  of  the  author's  early 
dramatic  produdlions. 

From  The  Offspring  of  my  Fancy  is  taken  Kotzebue's 
Life.  From  thefe  volumes  have  alfo  been  pubhfhed,  iii 
Englifh,  the  beautiful  tale  of  William  and  Jeannette,  and 
the  extraordinary  account  of  Jofeph  Pignata*s  efcape 
from  the  prifons  of  the  Inquifition  at  Rome,  called  by 
the  title  of  The  Efcape, 

The  few  earher  works  that  Kotzebue  mentions 
having  publiflied,  have  never,  to  the  Tranflator's  know- 
ledge, found  their  way  into  England.  Some  tales  of 
his  have  been  jnferted  by  Becker  in  a  collection  of  mif^ 


27o  kotzkbue's  wori::^. 

cellaneous  pieces  which  he  publiftied  periodically,  but 
whether  they  are  originals,  or  taken  from  among  the 
many  works  of  our  author,  which,  according  to  his  own 
account,  are  fcattered  hi  various  publications,  is  not 
jinown  to  the  tranflator, 

All  tlie  works  above  enumerated  have  been  written 
fmce  the  year  1783  or  1784,  unlefs  it  maybe  fome  of 
tiie  moil  immaterial  pieces  in  the  four  mifcellaneous 
volumes,  the  precife  dates  of  which  do  not  appear. 
The  truly  valuable  talent  of  indefatigable  induftry  and 
application,  cannot  .be  denied  to  a  man  who  has  accom- 
plifhed  fo  much,  efpecially  when  it  is  confidered  that 
for  a  confiderable  part  of  that  time,  Kotzehue  was  a 
public  character,  engaged  in  public  buhnefs.    He  en- 
jeered  the  Empreis  of  P^uffia's  fervice  in  1781,  and,  it  is 
to  be  prefumed,  had  not  quitted  it  in  1794?  fmce  the 
preface  to  uuc  of  tlie  volumes  of  The  Touvgeji  Offspring 
of  my  Fancy,  is  dated  from  Reval,  in  January  that  year. 
That  all  his  works  bear  the  ftrong  imprefs  of  genius  can 
as  little  be  denied  ;  and  if  we  rife  in  any  way  diffatisfied 
from  the  perufal  of  them,  it  is  not  becaufe  we  difcover  a 
deficiency,  but  rather  an  exuberance  of  genius,  which, 
as  is  very  commonly  the  cafe,  hurries  on  the  writer  with 
an  excefs  of  rapidity  that  prevents  his  pohfhing  fuffi- 
ciently  to  afford  entire  fatisfaition  to  refined  tafte  5  and, 
where  we  fee  fo  much  done,  while  we  greatly  admire, 
we  lament  that  there  fiiould  be  any  alloy  to  perfeft  ad- 
yiyiration. 

i.' 

THE 


i 


^ciKcJiJa_ox  111  4^  

 — _i 

1  

